


Daddy's Girl

by MusicActorsBooksCharacters_xo



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daddy Issues, Dubious Morality, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2018-12-21 23:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicActorsBooksCharacters_xo/pseuds/MusicActorsBooksCharacters_xo
Summary: Your Father, Rick insists you keep of out it. Hiding you away from the Saviours is one thing, but keeping Negan at bay is quite another.





	1. Introductions

“What’s so scary about this Negan guy anyway?” You grumble as you open the door to the Gun cupboard, flipping a light switch so that you can see what you’re doing. 

Casually you peer over your shoulder, ill-at-ease from the eerie silence that had befallen the stuffy room. Rick stands deflated, pinching at the broad bridge of his nose eyes closed at your indignant expression.

“I keep you out of it for a reason.” He sighs, “C’mon, I need the Beretta.”

 “I know I might have said my lifelong ambition was to be a Princess, but I was _five!_ You’re taking the lock her in the highest room of the tallest tower a bit too literally!”

“I know, I know! For a reason.” You scoff at the tick in Rick’s jaw and delve into the dusty depths of the cupboard.

It seems to be an unspoken rule of your Father’s, that his daughters and son take a backseat when there’s a ‘run.’  Until the day comes when he’s willing to bend his rigid rules, you know, that Alexandria will always come first.  You shouldn’t have expected any less, and you understand, really – this place, the years of building and fighting is part of who he is, and you wouldn’t change that about your father for the world.  Still, you’re pretty sure that you’re allowed to be a bit fed up with constantly being rebuffed and made to stick by the wayside, even more than usual.

“Come to mama!” You cheer, but pull out an empty and rather dirty water pistol. “Is this a joke? I bet that was Daryl..” You huff but don’t hold back the small giggle despite the strange nervous energy radiating from the other person in the room. 

“Never mind then,” You mutter to yourself under your breath and shift around a few boxes of bullets, but quickly decide that the gun is nowhere to be seen. Sighing deeply in frustration, you’re just wondering if you could just go home and forget about the monotonous task when a hand appears without warning between your shoulder blades and pushes.  The shove isn't very hard, but it's enough to make you lose your balance and fall into the cupboard with an undignified yelp. The training kicks in instantly. You catch yourself and spin around, ready to fight off – well, you’re not sure who or what exactly, but something – and then you swear. 

It’s Daryl.  “What the?” You start to demand, pressing a hand to your racing heart as if to make sure it’s still functioning.  But Daryl grasps your arm with a big hand, pulling you deep into the cupboard.  He raises a finger to his lips, and immediately you fall silent as the dark, rough man glances around the corridor outside. 

“Daryl!” you hiss, but he grabs your hips slotting you in-between the door and his body effectively rendering you completely still. Cold sweat breaks out on your forehead at the proximity, alarmed at the feelings mixing in your stomach and your pulse speeds up even more. 

 “Daryl, Daryl what’re you doing?”

“Shut your mouth! They’re here.”  He warns and you flinch at the rough growl in your ear, he’s terrified and you would bet your good shoes that it has something to do with that Negan guy.

Seconds later, muffled voices, other than the rough cackle of an unfamiliar one, you can’t place much else. 

“Earn for me, because we’re coming back soon and when we do you better have something interesting for us or Lucille will have her way! I want you to hear that again if you don’t have something interesting for us, somebody’s gonna die. And no more magic _guns!”_

Daryl tenses behind you and you gasp feeling the dull prod of his fingers at the skin of your waist. Your skin prickles uneasily but you stand your ground as the door cracks and opens to a dire scene.

  Staggering out to meet your father you take in the chaos with sore eyes, irritated by the grit in the air.  Rick stands by the gates crumpled in on himself with shaky hands watching Michonne’s back with teary eyes.  Aaron and Eric console each other on the tall steps of their home and through the retreating engine smoke you briefly see Enid picking up bright green balloons…

“Come on Y/N, let’s get y’home…”

 

It was almost midnight by the time the front door clicked shut.

Rick wandered in shedding his jacket swiftly followed by both shoes, grabbing two shot glasses and the dark bottle of Jack he slumped down on the worn couch in the silent living room.  You catch sight of him foregoing the glasses to tip a big swig down his throat, coughing at the burn.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” You hiss at the crack in his voice and curse your hard tread for giving you away.

“I’m sorry, for today. That you had to see that..” Rick groaned as he poured more whiskey, into the glasses this time.  You pad toward him, blocking his view.

“I’m old enough Dad, I’m not that fragile little girl anymore.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you lean toward him to pull his limp body into a hug.

“You’ll always be that little girl to me Y/N, I just don’t want you to get...” You didn’t understand why he trailed off, releasing a puff of air before peering up to meet your eyes.

“I don’t want you to get spoiled by this world, that’s why I keep you out of it..”

 You didn’t realise at first, but your Mother’s last words replayed in your head, prompting you to reach out taking your father’s hand and placing it on your face to lean into its warmth and roughness.

“Mom always said that when you’re born, you’re a blank canvas. When you grow you stretch and bounce back and stretch again. You trip, scar and rip and bleed. You cry.  And at the end of it all, it’s no longer a blank canvas.  It’s a masterpiece.  Let me be a masterpiece Dad.” Warm droplets paint your skin and his, but make no move to wipe them away.

“I want to protect myself and my family.  I’m not that Princess.  I don’t want to be locked in that tower anymore Dad..”  You mirror your father’s glassy smile and lean over.

“Alright. Give me a couple weeks to get this shit show sorted.” Rick bit at his lips, unsure. “Go on to bed, Daryl’s probably pacing the hallways..”  With that, Rick’s lips curled into a knowing smirk and you let out a gasp.

Quickly you look away, emotional and slightly mortified unable to keep eye contact any longer, turning back to the stairs with a giggle because indeed as you wander back into your room, Daryl is doing exactly that.

“He okay down there?” Daryl mumbles, twiddling nervously at his thick thumbs. But you take both his hands and in a bold move kiss him fully on the mouth smiling against them at his shocked huff.

You pull away after a long second to press against him in a cuddle, he’s still but you take it and try to reassure him.

“I’m tired.”

“Go on girl, get your ass in there I know it takes you years to get comfy.”

 

It’s a little before sunrise a week later and you’re violently pulled from sleep by the shrill wail of Judith sleeping next door. Instantly you’re up, bare feet colliding against the cold hardwood. With your father and Daryl out on a supply run and Carl with the neighbour kids you were the only soul that could give her comfort.

It’s barely 5AM, and typically the three-year-old would be out for a few more hours but instead the tiny girl stands clutching at the side of her crib stamping her little feet wailing to get out. But immediately you sense it’s something more than just wanting to get up, moving closer you get a better view of a sheen that coats her entire body. 

“Hey Judy, what’s the matter sweetheart.” You whisper, scooping her readily into your arms.  You can’t help but hiss at the contact of her slippery fingers burning the skin of your arm. 

“It’s okay, sh, sh.” You try and soothe her pacing out onto the front porch in search of cooler air, but nothing seems to calm her in fact the more you try the louder she gets.  Crying and yelling incoherent babble.

“Please, please calm down.” It’s reaching the hour mark and Judith had just seemed to get worse and you could feel the nails of panic drag down your back.

“We don’t have a doctor and our dad’s gone and Carol’s awol and Carl’s useless and you’re still crying!” The last words leave your lips in a short squeal and you swear a light flickered from one of the houses, you can’t be sure. 

“Oh god, now I’m waking the nation. Alright. I can do this..” Drawing in a shuddery breath, you wipe gently at the tears sliding down Judith’s cheek.  “It’s okay, I’m here. We’re gonna be okay..”

 

You’ve been eyeing the shelves of pills for some time, brain ticking over the pitiful whimpers of your sister, who had finally given in to exhaustion and laid limp on the single bed by the open window.  You daren’t give her pills, but there were no more options to consider – you’d tried a cool bath to no effect and your usually high levels of patience and optimism were now beginning to dwindle. 

Your only salvation is that the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon and that signalled the end of a night run for the group and soon they’d be home and someone, you hoped would know what to do.   You’ve always been told you give up too easily and sadly; flopping down on the bed next to a sleeping Judith, you prove them right.

 

The screech of the front gate is a rude awakening causing you to jolt up, waking a whiny Judith in the process.  A small dark truck barely misses the guy at the gate, sending him staggering backward to escape it. It’s unfamiliar and sends every hair on end as it comes to a halt.  Peeking carefully through the blinds you watch as a tall dark man bounds out of the truck pulling readily at his khakis and easily strides through Alexandria like he owned the place.  You can’t help but ask, loud enough to rouse Judith;

“Who the hell is that?”  You roll your eyes at the ridiculousness of it, but curiosity outweighs your fear.  Being benched by your father had made you inquisitive and despite the uneasiness you felt creeping steadily up your spine, you can’t look away.  The strange man waves a hand and the dirty group of large men and sporadic lone females disperse and disappear into the houses and like a cat among pigeons the inhabitants of each home back out, but some linger, some try to put up a fight but are quickly reprimanded.   The sight of blood and the crumpled body of Aaron is enough to send you flying backward, knocking the blinds in the process and you swear it catches attention.

It’s then Judith begins to cry, a loud screech that definitely doesn’t go unheard through the crack in the window.  _No, no, no.._  

You’ve been on the road before, fought animals, Walkers, disease and people but you know you’re about to encounter another type of monster.  If there was a time to prove to your Father that you can defend your family, it’s now.  You weren’t the Princess, the Daddy’s Girl. You could do this.

With one hand, you rifle through the floor stash for the gun Daryl had told you about not two days earlier, he wanted you to be able to fight and for that you were grateful especially now because just as you straighten up the front door swings open, glass shattering from the impact.  The sound sends the toddler in your arms into another fit of tears and you struggle to stand straight as she retreats warily into your chest.

“Don’t come any closer!” A spike of fear turns your command into a shrill scream and you deflate as the two men laugh.  Ordinarily you would walk away but it’s different now, you’re backed into a corner, nowhere to go but the window and with Judith, it’s impossible and Dad didn’t raise a coward.  So, you puff up, squeezing tighter to Judith putting every ounce of fear into the gesture but on the outside you take a deep breath narrowing your eyes and sneering at the two men who stop their twittering to stare just as powerfully back at you.

“Hey little girl..” 

You gulp, vaguely recognising the face of the man that spent his last time here tormenting Enid, a girl who since then had been somewhat of a recluse, only venturing out when accompanied by Carl and that was at a push.

“I’m sorry, I’m being rude.  I should introduce myself, I’m David.” Pulling in a sharp breath, you will yourself to stay still as he steps forward deep into your personal space.  “You’re pretty..” His rank breath scatters Judith’s hair.

“I have a name.” You hiss, raising your head to look directly into his sickening muddy eyes, hoping it would put him off.  But he just sneers, wide and ugly as if your defiance is a turn on – it makes your stomach sink. 

“I don’t give a _shit,_ about names!  Eddie, get the shelves. Take it all.” 

“What’re you doing! Hey, get back here!” You growl, struggling to fight with Judith in your hold but you let off a warning shot which ricochets off the wall and shatters a window.  Judith screams, a terrified guttural scream that vibrates your guts and tracks tears down your face at an alarming rate.

“She’s sick! You’d steal medicine off children! Fuck you!” You growl, louder and lurch forward toward David who doesn’t expect the butt of your gun to collide with his temple sending him to the floor. But he returns to his feet, clutching his head but no less furious and shoves back nearly toppling you both.

Reaching somewhere deep inside of you, you find the courage to smash at his head two more times before the already broken door gets pummelled in once again, but to your relief it’s a familiar face.

“Y/N! Are you…alright..” Rick grounds to a stuttering halt shock written all over his sweaty face. He can’t believe it’s you, holding his youngest child and a gun together.  You’re _his_ daughter.

Your eye contact with David doesn’t break, not as your Dad tries to coax from the edge of your vision.

“Y/N, put the gun down.”  He’s scared? A brief glance at his face and you wonder why he looks so terrified, sweaty and pale.

“No! He’s taking all our medicine!” 

Had you said something?  The air seems to slip out of David’s body, from under his maniacal sneer a flicker of fear slips through. Your dad turns to stone by your side and even Judith whimpers, burrowing her head further into your chest.   The hairs that had stuck to your neck with a nervous sweat now stand to attention;

“Now _who_ is this?”  His raspy laugh is rich and warm and dripping with attitude.  His shadow darkens your view of David who has melted into the corner.  You’re flabbergasted, unable to piece together why someone as cocky as David and your own _leader,_ _Father_ pleads at you with terrified eyes but in the instant the man with the rich voice swans into your view…   You’re confused but cold realization dawns.

“So, _Rick._ I asked for something fucking interesting and oh boy! You de-motherfucking-livered!”

His dark raven hair is pushed back away from his face, the slicked sides lead down to grey and black scruff coating his cheeks and chin. Dark brows arch over dangerous hazel eyes and straight white teeth part to let his tongue side through to taunt you in a sideways grin.  You can barely breathe, he’s too commanding and powerful but you find your voice, faking confidence.

“ _You’re_ Negan?” You blurt, scrunching up your features in a confused frown.

All he does is laugh, and in your peripheral your Dad looks like a frightened Rabbit; on his toes, waiting for something to go wrong.

 “The one and fucking only Doll, and _who_ are you?”

“Negan.”  The man’s head whips round at break neck speed, fixing your dad with a cold, hard stare that renders his half-plead mute. 

“Who _are_ you.?” There’s no mistaking his request.  But you can’t seem to take his demeanour seriously.

“Y/N Grimes..” You huff, rolling your eyes, a move that sets you father on edge, so much so he plucks Judith out of your arms in a bold move.  But it doesn’t seem to bother Negan who flounces about in front of you.  He cuts an intimidating figure _at first…_

“Well, damn! Rick! This is your kid?! Rick _, Riick!_ This is what you’ve been keeping from me! Whoosh! Well then!”

It comes together then. The tower you’ve been cooped up in.  The reason you’ve been benched so many times is because of him!  You can’t pretend to understand fully, but for a second a fraction of a second you might just know why you’ve been kept out of his line of sight.  Correcting your train of thought, you perk up standing tall and angry in the face of Negan.

“Y/N. Meet Lucille!” He chirps, springing back to life suddenly taking you off guard.   

It’s ridiculous. The way the large man, clearly a sociopath, looks lustfully at a piece of wood with metal round it like a damn woman! You raise a brow, peering round him at your father who looks like he’s about to crap himself, maybe he is a danger.  But as your Father seems to be dead set on keeping you out of it, you hum and nod absentmindedly taking in the enigmatic man’s form. 

“Okay. Well it’was nice meeting you and your..Lu-seal.  Good _bye?”_

You sneer, apologising quietly as you pass your Dad who mirrors Negan’s unbelievable expression.

You’ve definitely not heard the last of this.


	2. Garden Of Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A first time, a party and an uninvited guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of OC/Reader's outfits for this chapter are posted here on my Polyvore account! 
> 
> https://www.polyvore.com/one_shot/set?id=227415175

The warm wind lashes at your face, sweat sticks clothes to your skin but your mind keeps going back to this morning; the warmth of being in Daryl’s embrace quickly replaced by the covers being ripped backward.   You thought about the anger in his voice, the disappointment and thinly veiled shock that his own Daughter would be mad enough to do what you did. A bad start to your birthday, to say the least.

But now, it’s just you and him hurtling home.  It’s hot today, after your trip out you find yourself drowsy and spent and you nuzzle into the hot leather of Daryl’s jacket.

After 365 days, one year of being inside the walls of Alexandria you had never come home to this.  There were no children playing, no dogs. Not a soul. It felt more like the end of the world since the beginning.  It was a ghost town. 

“Where is everyone?” You whisper, tone shaky and confused. You didn’t know if something was wrong, not even Eugene stood on guard duty. 

“C’mon girl, we’ll find ‘em..”  Daryl places a hand insistently at your back, herding you toward your home.

“If they’re hiding from Negan they’re not at home. Daryl. What’re you doing?” You’re flustered, tripping over the wayward laces of your converse and practically stumble into the house.  Spinning on your heel you’re set on scolding him but as you turn you’re met with over a dozen faces;

“Surprise!”

“What the hell? Guys!” You flash a thousand watt smile at your family who stand in a large group in your small living room, cheering and pulling you down onto the couch.

“So, after your ballsy move yesterday, we’re probably going to die and you might not get to use this but I thought I’d give it to you now!” 

“Carl!” Your dad snaps, scowling at your brother who laughs at the shock on everyone’s faces, but you laugh along with him, wiping tears from the corner of your eyes to see the shoe box in your lap.

Carl walks into the couch opposite where Michonne, your father and Daryl sit smiling more than a little enthusiastically at you as you carefully open the box.

“What is all this?” You hum, absentmindedly..

“Well, open it..” Michonne smiles, looking very different to her usual attire and you nearly ask but what you see in the first package steals your attention.

“Matches?” Safe to say you’re confused, but continue to open each one and slowly it comes together.

“Matches, Gauze, Band aids, a butterfly knife..”

“Open the rest!” Carl exclaims, practically bouncing when you fiddle with the loose piece of tape on the big present on the floor by your feet.

“What is…a sleeping bag and a backpack..” Your frown turns into a burst of nervous laughter as the people around you continue to look at you with excited apprehension.

“Oh my god. Dad!” 

It’s lighter than the one you’ve held before, cold and smooth in your palm.  Deadly.

“I thought, since you wanted to become more involved we’d get you equipped! Be careful with it..”  He sounds sad, quietly resigned to the fact that his oldest daughter isn’t his little princess anymore but you know that you could only be locked in the tower for so long before jumping off the side so, much to your delight Rick had handed you the keys and let you come down on your own.  You smile, teary eyed and embrace him tightly.  You remember, in all those movies, Cinderella, Snow White and Sleeping beauty… They were never alone. Neither are you.

“Thank you..so much..”

“Now, for my present!” Michonne breaks through the content silent moment and rushes toward you with a yellow box with a blue ribbon.

“Woah..Michonne, this is beautiful!”

It’s bright and soft with spaghetti straps with ruffles at the chest. Pressing it to your body you smooth it against your skin, hitting above your thighs it would fit beautifully. 

“You have to wear it for the dinner today..”

“Dinner?” You ask, noting that the majority of the room had become empty

“Outside, we’re having a family dinner!  Now, get dressed and come down when you’re ready! I love you sweetheart..”  With one last embrace, the three of them leave to prep the party.  You turn, heading to leave for your room but run chest into chest with Daryl who looks a little nervous.

“You good, girl?” You nod, searching for his eyes “What’s the mat---”

 “I love you..” It’s rushed and you nearly make him say it again but you push up on your toes and kiss him slow, much to your surprise his hot hands run tight down your back and rest low on your waist his touch more purposeful and sensuous than you had ever felt it.  Daryl wasn’t a sexual being by design and for him to take any control and touch you like this took you very much by surprise.  

That fact that’d you hadn’t been intimate yet weighed heavy in your mind and the slow strokes of his thumbs at the exposed skin of your lower back stirred something warm and unfamiliar.

With gentle hands you slide them slowly down into his back pockets, skilfully pressing your lower half against his while deepening the kiss and moaning into his lips.

“Come upstairs with me..” You pant, resting forehead against forehead.  He’s as breathless as you and for a second you think he’s going to bail so in a desperate attempt to seduce him you slide both hands down his full gorgeous arms and take his hands, guiding them to your ample ass urging him to press into you.

“Mm, girl..” It’s soft and sweet and to your delight, he nods slightly following your quick tread up the stairs and into your room.

It’s awkward, the way the both of you stand regarding one another each unsure how to make the first move.  It’s full of giggles and whispered apologies and by the time your back hits the soft mattress you’re practically begging for him.   But he takes it slow and fumbles at your jeans with shaking hands. 

“It’s okay..” You try quietly to reassure Daryl who kisses gently at your neck but abruptly stops.

“What?” You breathe, looking to his eyes.

“You..okay?”

“Yes, it’s good..that’s all.” Now it’s your turn to blush.  The low moan seemed to scare Daryl and from then on he’s tender and careful, scared.   But by the time he’s seated inside you, after the burn you both begin to relax and he starts to move.  His strong arms pick your back off of the bed and he rocks into your body groaning and panting into your neck and ear.  You respond, kissing him and stroking at his lower back, urging him to find that spot that you’d heard so much about. 

By the time he tightens up, growling and confessing his love you’re tired and hungry and a little sore, ready to spend some time with your family.  

“I love you girl..” He coos, smiling, a rare occurrence.  You reply in kind, but can’t help feeling a little put out as you shower and dress, wrapped in yellow and white.  It’s supposed to feel good, and despite popular belief you didn’t feel much of anything.   But you smile and link Daryl’s arm as you walk out into the square, happy to see everyone sat at the long white table dressed with a cute cloth and bowls of different foods scavenged on yesterday’s run.

“Took your time!” Carl pouts, jabbing your shoulder with a long bony finger.

You flush, embarrassed at the thought he might know what you and Daryl got up to but you just snort flashing Michonne a knowing smile from the chair next to you.  She strokes reassuring at your arm, catching your wince as you sit on the hard chair.

“You okay there?” 

“Yeah, just..  I’m okay.” She doesn’t believe you, you can see it in her pitch black eyes but Michonne doesn’t push the subject further, passing you the large bowl of salad in silence.

Daryl squeezes your thigh in support, looking rather happy.  It makes you giggle and lay your head on his arm. 

“Ugh, get a room!” Carl cries, mockingly sticking a finger down his throat but is quickly scolded by your father who smiles, a touch of red blooming in his cheeks when you snap

“Already did!” You cackle, sticking your tongue out.  Your belly laugh catches the attention of Rosita and Tara as Carl doubles over covering his beet coloured face with both hands.  You daren’t look at Daryl who must be as red as Carl right now.

“OK, That’s enough of that thanks. Pass me the Salad Y/N..” Rick interjects, now as red in the face as the rest of the men in your proximity. 

“As you wish!” 

 

The rest of the afternoon goes smoothly, even Carol turns up with King Ezekiel in tow who strides toward you with an arm full of cobbler and fresh peaches.  Maggie holds Baby Hershel in her arms who nuzzles her chest, Tara and Rosita talk animatedly over the desert and at the head of the group your father catches your eyes, smiling gratefully at the family at the table, just as you are. 

Then, there's a change in the air.  The kind of change that cannot be physically felt, not seen, not heard - only sensed. The kind of change that's forced, acknowledged in the way the hair stands up on the back of your neck.  Something not right.

It’s in the air around you, in the warm wind that flutters your hair, in the way everyone suddenly turns toward the sliding of the gate.  It’s everywhere.

“Get inside!” Rick yells as the sounds become booming, people flood mercilessly into the gates making way for the giant truck that no doubt houses their leader.

Daryl moves to grab you, to take you somewhere safe but even you don’t get to tell him no.  Your voice is drowned out by another, loud and energetic.

He steps forward, beaten leather jacket a little too snug over his broad shoulders, a smug satisfied grin on his face and of course that ridiculous bat bouncing against the hard leather of his boot.  In a moment of silence you peer around; the family that a moment ago smiled and laughed over a hard earned dinner now cowered in fear of one giant jackass.

“You were having a picnic and neglected to invite us!”

Your blood boils at the way he saunters over, picking through the salad for a tomato with a leather clad hand.  Each person at the table freezes in fear and you’re surprised he can’t see the steam coming out your ears in fury.  The way they shake and avoid his muddy eyes at all costs disgust you but you have hatred burning in your eyes for them all.

“What..do you want?” Rick growls, but you know he’s scared, this front is something he’s good at so you sit back, sneering and angry you watch your father try to gain the upper hand.

“The offering isn’t for another w-week.”

Negan snorts, coming around to pat Rick on the shoulder. 

“It’s not all about you, Ricky boy. Ah!”  There’s no denying that he’s here for something other than the offering, it hits you as he saunters over, each step arrogant and purposeful; he’s here for you.

He’s only a few feet away from you, drowning your yellow dress in his inky shadow.  You’ve encountered people like Negan before. Sociopaths like him get off on fear and torment.  You might have been the princess in the tower before, but you’re the knight tonight.  Instead of quaking in your boots like half the mother fucking town you stand tall, looking him dead in the eyes sneering with pure hatred for this man.

“Isn’t it the badass, radass daughter of Rick the prick!” 

“Excuse me?” You sneer, tiliting your head to take him in.  The shit eating grin that’s painted on his face never wavers, even when you scoff and roll your eyes in utter boredom.

“Careful. Careful how you’re looking at me Y/N..”

He remembered your name? Well, that’s a fucking surprise.  In your peripheral, you can see Daryl and your Father begging silently for you to stop, but you can’t help what comes out of your mouth;

“I’m sorry.”  “I don’t know how else I’m supposed to look at a fucking sociopathic asswipe like you?”

The smile slides instantly from his face, his voice a low deadly hiss;

“You wanna piss me off?”

You don’t flinch when he leans in closer, his face mere inches from yours

“I want you to fuck off back to your hole and leave us the hell alone?!” A white hot surge of anger, flies down your fists and him speaking is the only thing from stopping you punching that smug grin off his face.

“Get on your knees.”  Negan hums, eyes narrow and sharp but still despite his no nonsense request you don’t obey. You’re not weak.

“No.” You spit at him, disgusted.  

“Get on your knees!” This time you flinch, he’s in your face screaming and bright red, large warm hands hold your shoulders, giving you one hard shove that sends you toppling backwards, but you don’t fall.  Even now, trembling you don’t show fear, instead you frown at another stupid expression on his face;

“I’m sorry, _fuck_ I look at every little brat this way. You’re not special.”  

“I motherfucking suggest you get on your knees. If not, someone dies!” He yells spinning round to address the long forgotten members of your family, when you finally look up you see your fathers fear, Carl’s shame and Daryl’s anger but there’s nothing you can do.  Negan’s threat seems to light a fire under them all, voices push you to obey; _Just do it._ They say, _it’ll be okay._

“You really want one of these fine people to get Lucille’s kiss? She’s a bruising kisser Doll, you wanna fucking see?”  He swings the ludicrous thing closer to your face and for a second you wonder if he would actually do it – kill you.  But something passes on his face as his eyes rove your body, lingering on your chest and suddenly you’re aware of the way the honeyed fabric clings to your clammy skin. Can he see the faint pink mark of Daryl’s beard burn on your neck, your chest and thigh?  Does he know? 

“One more time and someone dies. You’ll even get the honour of choosing. You like that?”  It’s painful, the humiliation but you know kneeling is your only option right now.

“Oh-hoo! That’s it, all the way down! Now _that_ , is where your fucking mouth gets you!”

 You’re flushed red hot, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back the wince when your sore limbs rub together as you kneel, something Negan’s eagle eyes don’t miss.

“What’s wrong Doll?” His face changes, Negan kneels to your level urging your angry eyes up to his.

“You in pain?”  He sneers, using his position to take hold of your jaw tightly in his gloved hand.

“Why don’t you tell Negan about it?” He laughs, loud enough for the whole group to hear. You catch Michonne’s worried eyes, the woman had become like a mother to you and she’s knows exactly why your teeth tear into your bottom lip.

“Screw you!” You yell, but you notice his attention has wandered, following you clock Daryl and you’re taken aback at the pure unadulterated fury you see burning in his eyes, and you’re not the only one.  Negan’s eyes peer from your pained face to his angry. Watching the puzzle pieces fit together you see then that Negan has the upper hand and you know you’ve lost.

“Oh! You and him? Rick! I thought you raised your kid right! But this is just fucking shameful.”  Deep mocking belly laughs rumble from Negan who now towers over your kneeling frame, clutching at his stomach.  You’d be angry if you weren’t so embarrassed but it was set to get worse when Negan finally composed himself enough to return to you. 

“Oh sweetheart, how inconsiderate of me.” He booms, uncaring that your father is begging for him to stop. “Excuse the shit out of my god damn French but I’m so fucking sorry! Making you kneel for me when you already knelt for him isn’t that right?”  You can hear the Saviours chuckle and the hiss of anger from Michonne but nothing compares to the pounding of your heart in your own ears.

“Come on, up you get girl I think you’ve had enough. Knowing that you had your first time with that asshole should be enough fucking punishment Y/N!”  Negan yells, with not a care in the world.

“Mother fucker!”  A scream comes from your left, Daryl’s dark form bounds forward fists flying.  In the scuffle, you’re knocked to the floor, watching helplessly. 

Several of Negan’s men tackle Daryl to the dirt, but you don’t look at him; you’re watching the person watching you and he smiles, licking slowly at the drop of blood that collects at the corner of his mouth.

“Now that is a no no!” He yells, shoving the bat in Daryl’s bloody face the shining barbs teasing the side.

“That deserves punishment!”

Negan holds your eyes and paces, thumbing his lip in jovial thought as if he was merely choosing his favourite desert, not toying with the life of a person you loved! 

“What do you think Rick?  This guy deflowered your little girl?! Je-sus! I thought even you would have a fucking idea for me? But no, you’re just standing there with that stupid look on your face!” He laughs, all teeth.  The bastard’s enjoying this, it turns your stomach.  

“How about you baby? You’re not glowing like those stupid cosmo mags preach! You’re not begging him for more of that dick sooo is it fair for me to say it wasn’t up to standard?”  He fucking laughs, mocking and humiliating in front of the whole community and his own men. You think about crying, but you daren’t give him the satisfaction.

“Fuck you.”

“You first?  Come back with me, let me give you a taste of what real man feels like hm? Maybe I’d spank you for being such a mouthy bitch?!”

It boils up inside of you, so venomous it burns your teeth.   The laugh is loud, cackling and doubles you over.  It surprises him. He was expecting you to cry and beg for him but not this.

“Only limp dick old men boast about their skills in bed hon, why don’t you put those hands to good use elsewhere asshole!” You nod at the hands that grasp your waist, tighter and tighter with each venomous word. 

“Take him.” He commands and quickly Negan’s right hand and left both tackle a swearing Daryl pinning his arms together to force him toward the waiting truck. 

“No! Fuck you no!” You scream, lurching forward to slap Negan but he’s too quick snatching hold of your rouge arm in a bruising grip.   His eyes rove over your dress, clocking the burn marks and red angry blush that stains your chest and cheeks.

“Punishment. He’ll be a good solider for me Y/N. This’ll be good for you to darlin’, you’ll see..” He snorts, leaning into your personal space further.  To a stranger, this could be an intimate moment, the way his body presses into yours; his dark pants rough against your bare legs, the cool press of his leather glove at your neck.  He takes a few seconds, in those you find yourself unable to look away captivated by his dark green eyes. 

“Think about me, when you’re alone tonight.  Think about the way it could have gone.  Well!  Me and my Lu-seal are going.  Thanks for the party favour baby!” Negan purrs into your ear, leaving a gentle kiss to the shell of your ear and swell of your cheek that leaves you shivering in the warm afternoon sunshine.


	3. Crimson Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just your typical home invasion, sorta..

_Think about me, when you’re alone tonight._

In the 168 hours since, you had obeyed Negan’s rules to the letter unable to focus on anything but. 

It’s your first day out of the house in a week, and you’ve firmly made up your mind to spend it doing something active.  As much as you wanted to hide away from the pitying glances and your father’s watchful gaze, the fact that you were needed weighed heavy.  ‘Just go’ you mutter under your breath and fiddle nervously with the door handle. ‘One day, just one’ you push, finally opening the door to reveal bright burning afternoon sunshine.  The white rays sting your tired eyes and sweat begins to gather under the skin-tight material of your workout clothes. 

As you step into the square it’s as if someone had sucked the air out of the atmosphere; Michonne, Carl, your father and the rest of the inner circle ground to a halt, turning their heads in your direction.

“What am I a circus attraction?!” You hiss, beginning to regret leaving your bed in the first place.

“Get over here, we need some help sorting these cans! Make yourself useful!”  You flash Rosita a grateful smile, and more or less everyone returned to normal stacking and organising the new influx of supplies.

“I’m fine..” You huff, wiping dust off your jeans. You had ignored your father’s worried gaze but after the week you’d had, your usually calm demeanour had begun to wear thin.

“You can talk to me, you know that right?”  It took a large amount of will power not to grind the rusty can in hand to a pulp but the voice from before urges insistently ‘he’s just concerned. It’s his job!’ 

“I’m fine. I promise Dad..” a small forced smile twitches at your lips and you finish off packing the last box.

“Daryl would be proud you know..”

That stops you in your tracks.  It freezes your hands around the lid and sends a bubble of guilt to the pit of your stomach.

_Think about me, when you’re alone tonight._

In the 168 hours since, you hadn’t thought of him.  The person you claimed to love. The man that had defended your honour and risked his life to make sure you were protected had been forgotten, left unnoticed in the dusty corners of your mind.   The worried look returns to your father’s face as quickly as it left; you’re not so sure it ever did.  With all the twists and turns your brain was taking you’re surprised you can even form a coherent sentence.

“It’s my fault.  If I hadn’t of mouthed off he would still… He would still be here..” You sniff, abandoning the supplies to fold pathetically into Rick’s waiting arms.

“It’s okay Y/N, you were defending yourself.  Negan did this. Not you..” He tries his best to talk you down to convince that it wasn’t your stupidity, but you know the truth.

“Why don’t you come for a run with Rosita’s training group, they’re just about to head off? I know before it used to clear your head, and besides.. they need someone to set the pace!”  He laughs, kissing the top of your head before reaching down to load the heavy stock into the van. 

“It’s, it’s for them, isn’t it?”  They have to come back here, no doubt Negan will be among them arrogantly leading the pick-up with that stupid smile and ridiculous bat.

“I want you to be inside.  This is your first day in the land of the living, I can’t have him set you back.” Rick averts his eyes, almost as if he couldn’t face your disappointment.

“I can handle him. I’ll be fine.” You’re angry, thinking of Negan sends your blood rushing to the surface, an angry red flush heating your cheeks.

“You’re not you when he’s here Y/N.  He makes you angry. He makes everyone angry..” He stammers quickly.

“I can’t have a repeat performance. We need all the man power, especially now..”

“Oh. I see, so you’re going to side-line me? Again? Poor little me, I was humiliated by Negan, I got Daryl taken away so that automatically benches me does it!? Great, thanks Dad. So much for it not being my fault..” 

You don’t hear his reply, you’re running; past the training group and Rosita who waves trying to flag you down but you just run sprinting angrily against the hot tarmac. Wondering how far you could make it before you passed out, you veer off to a mostly uninhabited part of Alexandria; two houses stand alone, from the outside they look normal but after the death of Deanna and Reg, the repairs and renovations had been left to the wayside.  You run distractedly through the middle of the two and around the rear running your hand across the brick until red streaks across the stark white.

 “That looks nasty.”

It’s a voice you don’t recognise, a face you’d never seen.  He’s tall and lank, with hair to match and looms over your frame with intense brown eyes.  Automatically you scramble back but stupidly back yourself into corner, blinking at the impact.

“You don’t know me, but I’ve seen you. The golden girl. Standing up to Negan like you’re invincible.” The nameless Saviour leans in gradually, blowing stale breath over your sweaty skin. You should have stayed, shut up and carried on packing boxes, but once again the smart mouth had gotten you into a dangerous situation and this time you can’t see a way out.

“Your boy, Daryl is it?” You tighten instantly, muscles freezing at the sound of his name “I don’t recognise him much through the bruises!”

“How would you like some of those asshole!” You bite, fists clenched at your side. He’s testing you, you know that but the urge to swing hard and fast at his face is strong.

You don’t doubt that he wouldn’t hesitate to knock you to the ground so you take a step back, with each step he follows smirking and cracking dirty knuckles drinking you up with yellow eyes. Unlike him, you play smart backing further and further out of the path between houses, leading the Saviour into the street where you can just hear Rosita’s group jogging toward the deserted part of town.

“Think I’m dumb girly?” He cackles and lurches forward to grapple with your flailing arms as you defend yourself in the scuffle.

“Yeah.” You smile, reaching stealthily for the cold knife at your waist.  “I do!”

Thick mahogany spurts from his neck, the man’s desperate cries turn into gurgles and he sinks to the ground in slow motion.  This wasn’t your first human kill, no, but never this close, never did you see the life leave their eyes.  It has you staggering backward, to sit in the road transfixed on the cherry red painting the pavement.  

“Y/N!”  Some of the Rosita’s group run, fleeing to their houses in fear one by one until Rosita is left and like a cat she silently pads closer, sweeping over the dead Saviour and then you and by now the pins and needles in your hands had abated, making you suddenly aware of the sticky fluid coating.

“What happened?” She asks, extending a perfectly manicured hand but you don’t take it. 

“I went for a run and he ambushed me.”  You sigh, trying to rid the memory from your brain by focusing on anything else.

“It’s them. They’ll be here soon enough...”  The woman next to you blinks, stopping abruptly at your devil may care attitude.

“What’s wrong. You’ve been a pain ever since Negan showed up.  Is it because of Daryl? Or you being benched because I can’t deal with your ass when you’re like this.” She snipes, coming around to take your shoulders. 

“I need to get this blood off. Tell my dad to prep and get rid of the body.” You don’t say goodbye, an unspoken rule from a time before, you’ve always hated them.

 

The house is eerily quiet when you return.  Your blood-soaked boots leave crimson kisses on the pale hardwood, trailing teasingly toward the downstairs bathroom.  Every breath seems to echo, the gush of water hurtles into the bath like a stampede.  Finely tuned instincts implore you to stop, but it’s denied and gently you dip into the hot water, blood darkening the crystal clear. But it soon fades, leaving a rosy tint to the water that you’re content to lather in.  It should bother you, bathing in another man’s blood that not a moment ago you were fleeing to remove as quick as you could!  But it doesn’t, somehow the short dash to your home had obliterated the impulse.  So, you sit pink skin and strands of sweaty hair stuck delicately to your flushed forehead and cheeks, soaking in the rare silence that had strangely befallen your home. 

A loud bang and three distinct voices crack the blissful stupor and suddenly, you’re aware of the anxiety riddled churning in your gut and how shaky your legs have become, barely able to lift your weight from the cooling water.

“Hey! You in there?”  Carl calls, pounding incessantly on the door.

“I know you’re in there! The Saviours are here and Dad’s left me with Judy so she’s asleep and I’m going bye!”  Carl’s voice fades away as he runs closer to the door, curtly slamming it and leaving you once again alone but this time the pounding of your heart is nothing to do with the too warm water – it’s the tell tale throws of dread and anxiety that you’ve only felt when…

“Hell no.” You hiss, throwing the door open angrily trailing water through the house.  You know waking Judith is a risk but you scream into each room goading him to face you with that stupid bat and gorgeous eyes.

“Get out here you sadistic coward!  You hurt my sister and I swear to--!”

“No need to get angry now is there Darlin’? A little stressed?”  spinning around you follow the voice, the rich warm tone floats seemingly from room to room, teasing you with promises and revenge.

“Get OUT!” You scream, waking Judith whose screams lure Negan out from behind you.  The hand grasping tight to the towel freezes at the smell.  Deep and male with a hint of warm metal.  His low purring hum scatters the drying hairs on the back of your neck.

“Look what you did. Waking the poor angel..” Negan coos, but makes no move to calm her.  He’s fixated on your frozen form, tied to the spot by his eyes. 

“What? No scathing comment from that bitchy mouth of yours hmm?  Well, isn’t that a shame!” Before you can think to move his looming, dark presence is towering above you once again, bending you backwards. Not giving him the satisfaction you pout, staying silent just hoping he’d get bored and fuck off but instead he roars, grabbing your chin in a hard hand;

“Speak when you’re spoken to!”

You burn red, angry and mean and scream at the top of your lungs;

“Get the mother of fuck OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

You watch with bated breath, but his swing doesn’t come.  Instead he mocks, high and bitter;

“ _Get the fuck outta my house?_ Are you kiddin’ me?!”  He sneers, taking a pointed step into your space until your cold body bumps against the counter. 

“Did you do what I told you Doll? Think about me?”  You blink, reliving the nights of insomnia and echoes of his buttery voice in your mind.

“Oh! You did! Well, you’ll fuckin’ remember!  You want your boy to stay in one piece? I suggest!” He grabs your chin tight in his gloved hand; “You behave.  You hear me?!” He’s shouting again, daring you to defy him and the itch in your palms begs to be relieved and before the two of you can make take another breath you let it go.  You fly forwards shoving him hard and swing with so much force something cracks pain rippling violently up toward your wrist and you cry out, half anger half pain and watch Negan cradle his blooming jaw.

“Oh Darlin’..” He says with a shake of his head, smiling menacingly before lurching forward pinning you to the wall with a large forearm.  The instincts were right and your subconscious mocks jeeringly in your ear as you choke against the pressure.  Blood pounds in your ears and a bloom of heat blossoms at the surface of your skin with each passing second.

“Spoilt, princess! You, belong to me!” He laughs, pressing harder until your feet scramble for purchase on the floor.

“No.” You splutter, hoping he’d back down but instead he leans down peering into your bloodshot eyes with a look that takes your breath away.

“Well, well. You’re not a Daddy’s girl like I thought! I’ve never been so wrong in my whole life!” Negan jeers, dropping his precious Lucille at your side to grip your face in a large warm hand.

“I own you. I know you, little Grimes. I see the way you look at me, through that good ol’ sneer I see you. You love it..”  

Something twists in your stomach, something unsettling and raw, a warm feeling that scared you somehow.

“Screw you!” You snap, shoving his chest with one hand but he doesn’t shift or even flinch. But the gentle touch had tightened, harder and harder until your face was mere inches from his own.

The droplets of water shake on their way down your body, quivering against your trembling skin. His dark eyes rove your body but it wasn’t like before, not malice, but a different kind of hunger that you hadn’t felt for a long time. 

“Oh baby, you’re gonna fucking regret crossing me in a few minutes..”

The scratch of his beard, the bite of his lips and the possessive palms that roam the damp expanse of your neck wind tight into your hair pulling until he can access your neck with a deep growl.

All it takes is one long, endless second for you to process.  Then you pull away with a soft, wet sound, and before he can follow your mouth he staggers back as you land an expert blow to his cheek.  But he barely gets time to react before you haul upright and your mouth crashes onto his lusting after the rough sharp scratch of his beard and the painful dig of his hard fingers. 

Negan’s sound of surprise vibrates against your mouth, allowing you to deepen the kiss, prising him open without warning. It’s all teeth and tongue, furious and desperate and hard; Negan’s fingers have an almost painful grip in your hair but you couldn't give less of a damn, fisting the back of his jacket as every inch of him presses impossibly close, and then he’s sucking your tongue into his mouth and you can't help but moan, toes curling.  It's rough heat and wetness and collision of noses, turning your knees to jelly.  In that moment, you give up all attempts at fighting him, and let Negan grab, let him push and pull and take what he needs, let him bite and drag and graze, let him devour you whole.

_Think about me, when you’re alone tonight.._

_No._

And then you whimper.

It's unmistakeable. Not a sound of pleasure or passion, but of pain. That's when Negan notices you quivering violently under his hands and he freezes on instinct. You watch his evil eyes open just as you make that noise again and break the kiss to let out a strangled half-sob

"I want.  I want to make a deal.”


	4. Parting Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been gone so long! I can't believe the reception that this story has received so thank you! Please leave a comment, I'd love to hear your opinions!

Your mouth feels like an old carpet.  Your head and heart pounding, you sit up and the whole room lurches around you.  It’s early, the slow rising sun turns the sky a milky blue and it’s silent as you tiptoe down to the kitchen.  Spots of liquid soak the white bandage that Carol so delicately wrapped around your blackened hand as you pour a drink.  It slips down and cools your burnt throat – red raw from screaming and crying as your father stormed in from his battles with The Saviours to find you slumped, cold and barely awake by the stairs you’d tried to climb after Negan’s exit hours earlier.

_“What did he do!? Did he hurt you?!” Rick had screamed, hand gripping white knuckled at the Beretta yearning to spill Negan’s black blood, but you’d done just that, and it didn’t go down well._

_“You did what?!” He yelled, pulling you to your feet in rage, luckily the pink beard burn blotches and your swollen lip remained unnoticed._

_“I punched Negan…” You’d scoffed, shaking the cobwebs from the anxiety induced nap to raise your head high in the face of your father_

_“Signed our death sentence, you mean.”  Carl, who you’d barely noticed sneered from the side arms folded and staring in such an intrusive way you almost wondered if he knew._

_“Shut it Carl.  It’s not like he didn’t fucking deserve it! He’s killed people! People we love, people we need! You should be thanking me for doing what you can’t!” You screamed so loud, Judith’s cries echoed from upstairs, but are left untended as both men revolt._

_“I let you have responsibility! I let you call the shots alongside this family and you kill one of his men! Then do this! He’s killed.  I’m not denying that, but you’ve created a war! How dare you undermine me like this!”_

_You’re barely able to respond, the argument died in your throat as his words sank in.  He gave you what you so desperately wanted, and you’d messed it up.  But the words kept pushing, the truth burned behind your teeth but instead you swallowed it down and settled for something more;_

_“I’m not sorry for what I did Dad. I’m just sorry that I let you discard me because I’m not Carl. I’m not Michonne or even Daryl.  I’m just your little girl. Kept away from the big bad Negan because you’re scared he’d use me against you!” You yelled, the words like acid hit their mark._

_“That’s not..”_

_“Don’t lie!  I knew, that day in the infirmary! The way you reacted when he looked at me I realised why you’d kept me away.  I’m not your little girl Dad, it’s just a shame that you think I can’t handle myself, well guess what. You’re wrong.”  It’s pitiful and low, but it’s no lie.  The way he sighed deep and unsettled you knew it’s had the desired effect._

_“He’s not going to let you get away with that! You punched him, you think he’s just gonna take it? Then you must be a dumbass!” Carl seethed, lurching forward but is stopped by a quick forearm._

_“Carl!”_

_“No. He’s right. But at least this dumbass put him in his place.”  You were close to telling them, ripping off the band aid and hoping to god the world wouldn’t crumble beneath your feet but instead took a deep breath and turned to leave._

Much like then, you creep up to your room and clamber back into the covers, luxuriating in the soft, loose material over your skin. But something lingers, something bitter and embarrassing – the truth. 

He’d licked the blood, the running drip of scarlet and you’d watched his reddened tongue brush blood over his white teeth with reckless vigour. He was dangerous, calculating and smoking hot – now though, sitting cross-legged in your bed you cringe at that particular thought, not because it’s wrong.  Because it’s very, right.   

_“Damn little Grimes! You pack a punch! MmM!” He pants, grinning and too happy for an egotistical asshole you’d just knocked about._

_You stand on shaky legs, the cold water drips off your hair and onto the hardwood as you regard each other. Negan’s wolf grin lighting up the shadowy room._

_“I want to make a deal.”_ You remember being scared, heart flittering about like a caged bird behind your ribs.

_“I don’t take deals. I MAKE the deal Darlin’” Negan smirks, darting out his tongue to soothe his swelling lip._

_“Want do you want?” You stammer unnerved at the possibilities._

_“You..”_

_In that moment many possibilities ran riot in your brain, not all PG-13 much to your utter disgust._

_How dare he take the rational, moral side of your brain and crush it under his boots. How dare he make you want to kiss that smug expression from his face.  It was then you remembered what bought you back, but with that came the crushing guilt.  Daryl.  The person you loved had been no doubt locked away in that hell hole and here you were, licking the inside of that bastards’ vile mouth!  The very person that had humiliated you in public, in front of your Father!  Your family._

_“Excuse me?” You snarl, waiting for his angry response but he just laughed, enjoying your attitude_

_“I want you to do nothing.” His breath fanned the thin pieces of dry hair by your neck and let Goosebumps rise at the surface of your skin.  He gets closer, wild eyes glistening and alive.  They sink down to your mouth and back to your eyes and you’re frightened by the clench of your traitorous stomach._

_“Live your life. Rest that pretty head at night knowing that as long as you behave, you’ll get your precious Daryl back.”  He coos, and you don’t protest when his gloved hand runs smoothly down to your ass to haul you forward, taunting this side of you with the heavy weight in his jeans._

_“I hear one word. One sarcastic fucking word come out of that mouth, I’ll walk straight into that dank disgusting cell and crush his greasy skull myself you hear me?!” Negan growls, grasping at your jaw, forcing your eyes to his._

_“Yes Negan..” You snap, taking this one last opportunity to sass him._

_“One question.” You hiss, digging your nails into his leathered arm as he goes to leave_

_“Why.”_

_He looks…astounded you’d ask such a thing, as if you’d asked him to strip.  But instead of being angry, Negan stalks forward._

_“You punched me in the fucking face?!  I have to leave this shithole town with a split lip and most importantly!  I know how not being fucking involved, having no say will drive your gorgeous ass crazy. And the cherry on the mother fucking top! Your Daddy, will be a man down, with not a fucking clue why! Ahh, don’t you love the smell of victory Doll?!” Negan booms, holding onto your body tighter.  Before returning to the door, he leans in hot breath on your face which he holds in a leather clad grip;_

_“Now, you be a good girl for me while I’m away you fucking hear me.” The words are like honey, dripping and sickly sweet.  His lips curve into a slick smile and a rich laugh ripples your insides, but he leaves you with a parting gift a short but intense kiss that takes your breath away; and then he’s gone leaving you alone in the dark house, suddenly aware of how cold you had become._

  

You’re pretty sure it’s dawn when you come back to yourself, sweat soaked and panting; with one hand shoved down the front of your pyjamas it takes you a few seconds to move, to wash your hands and not look in the large mirror.  You’re barely able to open your eyes when you get back into bed, but the guilt is so overwhelming you’re most definitely about to throw up. With well placed aim you vomit into the bin by your bed, too tired to deal with it you roll over – ignoring the slick at your thighs and weight in your chest.  


	5. The Hunting Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It eats away at you, the memory of his lips, teeth and tongue. You try to find in it yourself, chasing danger and risking it all but one high is never enough..

The scream echoes through the trees, snarling jaws, dark hands and dead eyes gain and gain. All you can do is run, old boots sliding against the wet ground; the rain that lashes down blurs your vision. No longer able to see the road ahead you push harder, faster your muscles scream for you to stop but adrenaline takes over, electrifying your blood which pushes you off course and toward the treeline.  

In your sprint toward the forest you hear them slow down, the plan is working. With a smile you twist on a heel and plant your feet ready for the onslaught of the dead.

“Come on!” the sound burns your throat, but the relief is tenfold.  It’s been days since you felt this flood of emotions so strong and it almost knocks you to the ground but you can’t let up – the first one burst through the trees with a baying snarl.

“Hey gorgeous! You ready?” You cackle manically, lunging forward into the dead girls embrace.  Her mangled hands grapple uncoordinatedly with the material of your hoody holding harder than expected. In the scuffle you forget the knife at your hip. Instead, the rush of anger at being overpowered by the corpse shoves you into action and you hit out, pushing with both hands sending the small body flying into the ground.  With a broken roar you repeatedly slam your fists into her grubby features;

“Fuck you!” You scream, over and over again until her bones become mush and pain radiates through your already injured limb.  With a whimper you roll to the side, uncaring that the blood and thick mud soaks uncomfortably into your clothes.  

You don’t realise you’re crying until the lightening sky slowly blurs.

You know this feeling won’t last.  Your body won’t be light for long, your raging heart is bound to slow and the high will leave.  You’re chasing danger and risking it all but one high is never enough and will never match up.  So, you stand, traitorous legs wobble but you manage to trudge quietly through the trees, that’s when you notice the thick cold sinew infested mud bath you’d flopped in and begin to run.

Jogging through the trees you let the branches scratch and scrape – a harsh reminder that you’re alive, the pain filling the empty void that his high left.  But this time, it’s a mistake.  Something sharp fires white hot pain into the arch of your foot, sending you face first onto a hard surface.  With a yelp you land, gravel stabbing the vulnerable skin of your face. Cursing you scramble up, with the use of your foot limited and black spots invading your vision you’ve got no choice than to haul your failing body across what seems to be a roadway, grass plains on either side lead into the blackened skeleton of a burnt-out house. You slip in, barely able to catch your breath.  Something moves in the trees opposite, it’s top heavy and flies forward tripping over it’s weighted feet -you barely notice the shackles on its ankles before the violent crack of a gun echoes overhead; You’re home.

It’s light when you wake, luckily undiscovered by the guard on duty that night. Briefly recalling the meeting, you had once again avoided the night before, you probably hadn’t been discovered because once again – the new guy was on duty, usually you’d be mad but as you peel away from the floor you’re damn thankful.  

“Where the  _hell_  have you been!”  

Your whole-body tenses, your harsh expression doesn’t go amiss to your Dad who wrenches the gate open and flies toward your limping form.  Dark eyebrows pull down in a frown, much like the one you’ve seen many times before but usually the signature expression is only for Carl – never you, never the golden girl.  It’s strange but much to your surprise, doesn’t send you sobbing apologies like when you were a child, no this time it lights the angry fire that’s barely below the surface these days.

“Out. I’m fine, I need a shower.” It’s cold and snappy, but it doesn’t miss the mark and you watch as Rick’s face slides into shock then back to the cold frown that darkens the already brewing puffy bags under his eyes.

“Hey! Get back here!” Shouting, Rick tries to move toward you, his large hands easily stop your vicious steps.  

“What’s gotten into you? First you don’t want to come to meetings, now this?”  

All you can do is stand, cutting daggers into his face with your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. This is the third time this week! You could have died, you could have gotten someone killed!”  He bellows and much to your disgust draws some attention;

“It’s nothing to do with you. I’m  _fine_ , now I need to get my foot looked at.  Are you going to move?”

You round on Rick, stepping away from the cage of his arms and head toward the infirmary, you know it wouldn’t be any use, your medical training is basic at best and Denise died long ago but anything to get away from the interrogation you were bound to receive when you returned home.

It’s freezing when you open the doors, meds and glass are scattered around; not the ideal place for the injured, you note but hobble over to an unmade bed and lazily reach back to grab a wad of gauze.

The unlaced boot slips off easily, but you cry out at the featherweight pressure and shove the clean part of your discarded hoody into your mouth and bite down.  Tears mist the sight of your foot, but the pain is white hot and you’re barely able to clean the dirt and blood away without crying out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!” You grimace, teeth tight preparing for the grizzly hole in the bottom of your foot.

“That looks disgusting!”

You jump, tensing at the voice, but it’s not who you were expecting.  Rosita slinks toward you and dips down to help clean and dress your injury, tutting and gagging at the blood dripping onto her jeans.

“I saw you sneaking out last night” She sighs, carrying on despite your obvious want to protest; “I was going to stop you but, whatever it is you’re doing I’m sure..I suppose you’ve got your reasons.”

That’s not something you believe, if past is anything to go by the Rosita you know would have handed your ass to you if she knew you were even sniffing outside the walls at night without your Father.  This was, unnatural and it was beginning to make you uncomfortable as if she knew something you didn’t, something hidden.  

“Look, I’m fine. Thank you for helping, can I go now?” You shift away from her, but she holds tight to your ankle and shoots a warning glare.  Her dark eyes roam, clocking the mess of hair and dirty clothes, saying nothing.

“I know it’s hard that he’s gone. But take your gun next time Y/N..” she smiles, sliding an arm around your waist helping you home knowing that’s the last place you want to be.

“I’m sorry, you know I had to.” She sniggers, kisses your head and darts away leaving you to face your family alone.

“Dad?” You holler, you’d rather face the music now that have to wait until tomorrow; you had things to do.

“He’s cleaning up your mess.”  The irritable mood seeps in again when you spot Carl leaning against the stairwell arms folded.

“Carl. Stop pretending to be Dad, arms fucking folded like you’re gonna give me a fucking talking to?! As if, move out the way.”  You seethe, shoulder checking him purposefully when you pass at the bottom stair.

“You sound like  _him.”_   

You can’t breathe, his words are like ice water down your back.  The feeling is so strong it renders your body deadly still.  It’s so silent you can’t hear Carl’s shaking breath, the only thing giving his nervousness away.  He doesn’t bank on you swinging around;

“Fuck you Carl! Fuck. You.” You scream, choking on the tears you can’t stop.

Paint crumbles off the wall, cracking under the violent slam of your bedroom door.  You found the anger replaced by the worst kind of craving.

Every night this week it had ended up this way; the anger and guilt morphing into pure lust.

Quickly you shuffle toward the door and flip the lock, hopping ungracefully on an uninjured leg to shove your mud caked jeans and panties hurriedly down your legs.  

It’s ecstasy. Gentle touches turn, and it burns through your veins like a tidal wave. You rely on the memory, hanging onto it’s edges you recall; his lips are warm, the rough scratch of his beard added to the heady sensations.  You’re so absorbed, unaware of the little noises – keening whines, mewls and moans that slip out of your mouth. You burn everywhere, fire coiling under the surface.

_“Now, you be a good girl for me while I’m away you fucking hear me.”_

_Oh my.._

_With quick fingers it takes a little more than a minute before you tense, coming hard and fast to the thought of his teeth, lips and tongue._

You bend against the cold floor mewling his name in a broken sound.

“Yes, Nega _n..”_

When the fog clears, sun dribbles in through the blinds. Your injured foot screams in your crumpled position against the wall.  Slowly you rest up against it, in pain but finally satiated.

-

A long tense week passes before he comes to you, the days have consisted of silent meal times, harsh looks and even harder words as your father continues to push for a reason, any slither of honesty as to why you’d been outside the walls alone.  The accusations had gone from reasonable, to outright delirious!  

“Are you kidding?!” Finally, you break slamming a fork full of Carol’s casserole onto the wood, bits of food fly landing unceremoniously at Rick and a startled Michonne who had been eerily silent.

“Sit down. I’m sorry. Just, sit. We have to talk anyway, and no before you start it is not about your idiotic trips outside the walls which won’t be happening again.  Just, sit down please!” Rick implores, you thought about storming out again but the fearful look on his face is reason enough to stay seated.  But it doesn’t stop your hands from sweating, ringing together in anxiety.  Even Carl looks bothered, glancing through his hair between the two adults who swallow thickly before speaking;

“Someone, say something.”

You can’t.  Words stick against your throat and choke them to dust, it’s hard to process and after Negan’s warning you daren’t offer an opinion.  It’s,  _crazy_  even by your current standards.  Sneaking a look at Carl you find he’s already staring, scanning what you think must be a striking expression because the young boy looks almost…okay with it.

“N-no.” they’re crackly and you’re unsure the words are yours, but you can’t let them do this.

“What..” Carl splutters, twisting in his chair to face you; it’s thunderous and you have to look away in utter shame

“We’ll never get Daryl back this way!?” You stand, shoving the chair into the wall behind you.  The volatile display prompts, finally a reaction from Michonne who rests both palms on the table leaning toward your retreating form.

“Hey. You listen to me. I know you, you’ve been acting out. We get it. But you need to listen to us. We can get him back, and besides..” Michonne stammers, looking to your Dad to finish the sentence;

Your heart staggers to a halt, holding onto your ribs in fear of falling out your ass.

“He and I made a deal.”

_No. No. No._

_“I want you to do nothing.”_

What about  _your_  deal? You complied, did everything he asked. The rage builds hotly in your chest, how stupid had you been? Believing a man like Negan would be anything other than a murdering, screwed up sociopath?! Stupid.

“Oh god.” The room spins, so much so you throw a hand out to stop yourself from tumbling to the ground.

“Woah, woah. Come on sweetheart, it’s going to be fine.” Rick soothes, sitting you gently onto the sofa. He slips in beside you, holding your body against his side. For that you’re thankful, you can’t recall the last time he hugged you properly.

“What..”

“Don’t try it.” Rick laughs, tightening his arms in a gesture of comfort but you can’t relax. “I made this deal. It will work in our favour.”

“I promise.”

It’s been two years since your Mother’s death, but you still have nightmares.  Michonne does her best to fill the void but the dreams haven’t gone away.  It’s the same every time; watching Carl’s rusty blade burst her skin like a balloon, slicing through the skin like butter.  Some nights you manage to rouse yourself and pad downstairs; tonight is one of those nights, covered in a sheen of cold sweat you retreat from the safety of your bedroom and walk downstairs, instead of quenching your parched throat you dowse your face and neck in the cold water grateful for the icy wake up call.

“Do you love him?” You jump, glass of water raised halfway to your lips.  Your father stands with his back to the counter on the other side of the table, staring with an unreadable expression.

“Jesus! Dad, you scared me!” You breathe, hand to your heart. You know instantly what he’s searching for, a reason why. A reason for your standoffish behaviour since finding out about Negan’s deal.

“Of course Dad..” You answer honestly, wiping the warming droplets of water from your neck.

“Then why?” The low voice of your Father rolls out again, more quietly this time, more subdued but it frightens your heart and the flashes begin; Negan’s hard hands and hot mouth branding guilty all over your skin.

You couldn’t tell the truth. He was your Father, Daryl’s best friend and brother.  If you said it out loud you would have to acknowledge that it actually happened and that was too painful to bare. So, you try to be as honest as you could, holding back the detail of that night.

“I miss him. I..I got him into this mess. If the deal, whatever it is..doesn’t work Daryl is dead. I can’t, I  _can’t!”_   

He seems surprised by your emotion, the tears that begin to fall soak his shirt as you fold into his arms, sobbing.  You open your eyes and peer up at your Father who looks into your puffy eyes and pulls you closer.

“You didn’t, you hear me. Negan did this. We’ll get even sweetheart. We will.”

“Come on, back to bed. It’s late..”

\-                  

You’ve just woken from a nap, your eyes dry and heavy.  Steadily growing noises are uncomfortable and slice right through the core of your swollen brain.  Carl’s sharp elbow nudges your side and the small hand that strokes coolly under your light shirt brings you thudding back to the present moment.  You’ve not been sleeping again, the dreams hadn’t abated, time is wrong and confusing; had it been a minute, or hour, since that thing was said?  It wouldn’t be surprising if it was over entirely.   It, being the meeting – again one of the handful you’d attended where you had been utterly silent much to your Brother’s immediate suspicion.

“What’s wrong with you?” He hisses, long hair covering most of his unnaturally pale features.

“Nothin’…” You mutter back, barely forming words and you most definitely don’t look him in the eye.   It’s not been easy, since – sleep had been a beautiful memory of the past and your mood had been…less than stellar at home. Arguments broke out on an almost daily basis, Carl, you, Rick and now and again Michonne had been at loggerheads bickering over your attitude about their crazy plan and unknown deal.  

“You’re so shit at lying.” Carl snaps, his raised voice turns a few nameless heads and it has you shrinking down into your chair, holding a wriggling Judith still against her will as if her small body would camouflage you somehow.

“You’ve been so weird, just tell me..”  the breath leaves him in an unexpected show of emotion, instead of softening you up, it makes you angry stoking the slowly growing embers and a vicious cocktail of insomnia and guilt bubbles up and over.

Rick is about to start spewing the details of the operation but is forced to stop at the violent sound of your shitty plastic chair scraping against the wood.  Placing a startled Judith into Carl’s arms you spin on your heel and flee to the safety of your room.

 No one comes up to see you, your bed is your sanctuary and remained so until the sun rose the next morning. Not Rick nor Michonne bothered to come up, or at least call for Lunch like they usually would; but you could hardly blame them, their confusion over your backsliding wasn’t unfounded. You had been the one with the blackest heart when it came to Negan and now you were the one backing out, backing  _down_ you were a Grimes, through and through maybe it was about time you started acting like it?!  

On fast feet you shower and dress, wrapping your heeling foot tighter than normal to accommodate the snug fit of your running shoes.  Since your nightly ‘runs’ the guard patrol had been briefed and doubled – even if your Dad did deny it, you weren’t blind.  But no more outside trips didn’t mean you were under house arrest, so you shove on your best workout gear, grab a water, kiss Judith and leave.  

The sun was hot today, bearing down like a burning weight. The roasting heat beat sitting in your bed by a mile and for once you were content.  Endorphins replace anger and lust and you felt freer than you had in a long time.  Things were different today, you were hopeful.

“Hey gorgeous! It’s nice to see you out of that pit!” Rosita’s feminine giggle greets you and you stop leaning your sweaty forehead against her arm and laugh out loud.

“It’s nice to see you too! Want to run with me?”

Frowning at the dip in her brows over your head, you tilt yours in question, but she is quick to dismiss you.

“I’m fine, gotta go sort something out with, Spencer so I’ll see you around! Keep it up!”

“But you don’t even like…Spencer..” You trail off, watching her jog away in the complete opposite direction to Deanna’s former home.  

The sun doesn’t allow you to dwell for long, standing still is a sure-fire way to get wicked sun burn so you carry on for a few more laps before flaking tremendously.  A deep rumbling sound catches your attention, but it’s immediately replaced by a shrill laugh; Judith’s small feet totter over, her loud greeting is enough to distract.

“Hey there!” You coo, letting her curl her arms around your legs

“She spotted you out the window! Couldn’t resist that cute face, huh Judy?!” Beams Carol, strangely chipper – it’s been a while since you had seen her, with her duties at the Kingdom becoming more serious, she is a rare sight but not unwelcomed especially to you.  Daryl loves her, that means she’s family.  

“Thanks Carol, how’s Z holding up? That cat pulled a limb off yet?!” You laugh, groaning at the pull of your triceps as you lift Judith into your arms.

“Not yet! A few dreadlocks though, but don’t tell him I told you!  Oh, your Dad want’s you to grab him gauze and astringent from the infirmary so don’t forget before you get home!  See you!” She’s away before you can pry further – it’s strange, why he’d ask you when to his knowledge you were still hold up in your bedroom.

“Come on Judy, let’s go. I bet you had a good time with Aunt Carol huh?”

“Aright, Judy I know it’s hot..” You try your best to soothe Judith as she wriggles in your arms, the walk across the community was hotter than before and it leaves you both sweating but it’s cooler than normal inside your home and instantly something feels…off.

“Dad?” It’s surprisingly calm, despite the horrible vibe in the strangely silent house.

“Alright Jude, looks like Daddy’s gone somewhere with Mamashone, so it’s just us..” You smile, putting her down to totter into the kitchen.  She runs happily ahead of you, no doubt in search of the cookies Carol had left.

Ridding yourself your outer shirt, you stop to glance in the giant mirror, for once you smile happy with what you see, you scoff at the too small sports bra and shake your head listening to Judith squeal happily in the other room.

“Alright Judith!” You giggle, jogging toward the sound; “Too many cookies will spoil your… _!!”_

You scream, staggering back a few paces, feet suddenly sliding around in your shoes at the stunning sight.  He’s all monochrome, but those eyes are crisp and sharp like storm clouds right before lightening hit. They gloss languidly over your toned form, stopping to savour your chest for a few beats before returning to your sister who chatters happily in his lap.

“Well, well Baby doll! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” 


	6. Good Girls Don't Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a pain in my ass to write, but finally it's here! Let me know what you think!

Your quick paces come to a grinding halt; so much so you blindly reach out, fingers curling against the wall for balance.  Coming face to face with Negan is something you didn’t expect so soon; his presence had been absent over the last few weeks and your extracurricular activities alone had conjured a completely different image of the very real man sitting casually at your dining table.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”  You peer around the kitchen, taking in the utter chaos littered across the table tops.  Once again, the fiery rage simmers in your blood, stoking out any lust that lingered at his presence. He still hadn’t said anything, which under any other circumstances might have been concerning, but not today. 

“Jesus Christ!” you complain, staggering over to the disaster that was your kitchen.

Pots, pans and food cake the marble surfaces, it all leads to an annoyingly gorgeous smelling pan of sauce and meat that the Hilltop graciously provided.  

“What is this?!” This time, you yell slamming a fist down against the surface.  A muscle twitches involuntarily at the corner of your eye and like hail on a glass pane, the beat of your heart bangs relentlessly against its cage. 

Turning your attention to Negan you realize he’s been facing away from you the entire time. You don’t breathe as he shifts around; he’s stone faced though Judith happily fiddles with the loose strings of red at his neck.

You watch him intently.  His demeanour is nothing like the Negan you had encountered weeks earlier, not the man that gently kissed the shell of your ear but the man your Father fears and Maggie loathes.  The first lesson you learnt at the end of the world was to not show fear, but you can’t help the way that your hands shake watching him rise from the chair.

Your sharp intake of breath is the only sound in the room, even Judith stares at the tense interaction in front of her.  You would give anything to be in her shoes.

But that fear stands deathly still a mere foot from your body that almost melts into the wall. You take the brief moments to look him over.

His salt and pepper scruff had disappeared since your last interaction, you imagine how the smoothness would feel against your thighs and curse the way your heart thumps. He still hasn’t said anything.  It makes you nervous, you can see his jaw tick in time and you’re quickly distracted by the scattering of dark hair peeking out of his darker shirt and you find yourself taking your time;

Thinking back to the night before you’re quickly lost in an image; Negan’s toned chest now hidden from view is hard and warm under your hands which curl exquisitely into the skin. His arms are different from what you’re used to - they’re forceful and strong as they wrap around your waist. 

Your gaze falls to his hands, large, murderous limbs that were moments ago tickling the squirming toddler in-between them.  It’s not easy, picturing them doing anything else than teasing delicious moans from your swollen mouth. _Shit. Stop._

“You having fun there doll?” Negan laughs, it’s buttery and low and brings you back to the messy kitchen and with it comes the horrible reality of what you’re doing; betrayal.

It barely works, you have to stop these ridiculous feelings from making you weak – you’re a Grimes, Rick’s daughter; he didn’t teach you to be strong, defend yourself and become a leader for you to throw it all away for a pretty face. He is the _enemy._  

“What. Are you doing here?!” You hiss, flinging both hands out in the space between you.

Both fists curl at your sides at his silence, sharp nails dig insistently into the delicate expanses of your palms. He must see the change, his own eyes stop their journey around your body and turn dark, deadly. 

Negan closes the gap between you in an instant, trapping your small body against the counter. You know Negan isn’t one for niceties but you’re barely able to contain the gasp when he grabs your jaw pressing hard fingertips into the hollows of your cheeks.

“Negan.” You try to turn away, his bright grin unsettles you deep down, but his free hand pins your squirming waist to the flat surface. You’re no match for him, but do you want to be? You struggle but lean wantonly into him, betraying every moral you’d fought so hard to keep for a taste of him.

“Say that again baby..” He groans, dipping his eyes to your lips and back. You want to disobey him, not wanting to let him have the upper hand but you know it’s not going to work. 

Negan’s tight grip loosens enough for you to take a breath, release the pressure on your aching jaw but the breath gets caught in your throat when he touches your mouth with his thumb. The thick tip wipes slowly at your quivering lip and you don’t stop him.  The blood rushes harshly from your brain, leaving you swaying a slave to the exquisite throb in between your legs.  Your sharp intake of breath allows him to dip in between your lips his honeyed eyes hold your own.  It should repulse you, the hands that touch your body and make a home in your mouth have murdered your own, it’s sick how wet it makes you. 

He presses against your body, pushing his finger deeper, growling darkly when you suck eagerly.  The gentle touch of his hand, soft against your cheek flutters your eyelids and it’s over.  Abandoning the guilt, you lift on your tip toes to grab him, sliding both hands around his torso. Negan lets out a purr that you thought you’d only heard in your fantasies and the heat doubles reducing you to a whimpering mess.

“I’ve missed this sassy fucking mouth.” His tone is clipped, and you’re suddenly worried he’ll back down, flee and give the rational part of you what it wants but it’s left disappointed. Instead he leans in, pulling the drenched digit from your mouth.  He grins victoriously at your whimper, but it’s quickly contained by the same hand, this time it wipes wet from your pulsing lip – you almost pass out at the glorious vision above you but hold steady, eyeing him with the same burning intensity.

“I’ve wasted some nights thinking about it elsewhere Doll. Mm, yeah.”

Your knees shake, barely able to hold your own weight. Knowing that he’d come thinking about you the way you had about him made you sweat in the best way. The uncomfortable feeling in between your legs is nothing but lust for him.  You can feel it soak the thin material of your underwear which begs to be ripped off your supple thighs, but you remember, Judith the little girl sitting innocently across the room, your Father’s daughter.  The startling reality brings you back, barely enough to speak without bursting into anxious tears.

“Jesus Christ.” _Eloquent._  

You take a breath and steel yourself, but it’s not enough;

Negan’s hands slide sensually down to cradle your ass before pressing himself against you. That wicked mouth you’d lusted for repeatedly twitches into an unashamed smirk at your reaction; he knows you feel the hard weight in his jeans and it’s all for you.

“Were you a good girl for me while I was away baby?”  You freeze, recalling that night; his sharp scruff, hard lips and everything that followed. You breathe heavily and moan unrestrained at the clear image.

“Good is overrated. But I did think about you.” You answer with a growl of your own. It surprises you, that you’re able to form coherent words with him so close and the look on his dark features shows that even Negan didn’t bank for such a sharp response.

The knowledge that you’d thought of him fills Negan with glee.  His lust heavy eyes widen, and he steps back to regard you, a rich laugh echoes around the otherwise silent room.

With Negan withdrawn from your body, you have a second to clear your mind and move to the table hiding a cheeky smile from the man who’s no doubt leering at your ass right now. You’re smart enough to use it as an advantage, rational now his hands no longer control you.

With enough force to cause whip lash you twist around and tilt your head, propositioning him with a seductive smile;

“I did think about you, a lot.” You purr, slinking up to his striking frame. It’s hard to contain the smirk but it’s quickly covered by a seductive bite of your lip.

“Did we have fun Doll, in that head of yours?” Negan groans, flicking his eyes over your body and back to the way your own hands purposefully adjust your cropped shirt. It has the desired effect and you watch him shift from foot to foot.

“Mm, I came so hard thinking about it actually.” You hum, as if commenting on the weather. The worst thing is – it wasn’t a lie. But you keep that titbit of information to yourself, for now. 

Negan groans, suddenly moving from the side to corner you again. In this dance of yours you can’t help but wonder about Rick, the thought of being caught thrills and disgusts you but you let Negan back your hot body into the refrigerators cold surface.

“Jesus sweetheart! I knew you were bad, but this is fucking despicable!” His hands grab hard once more but this time he touches the bare skin of your belly.

You can’t stop now. It takes all your restraint to push off the surface but instead of running you pull him forward, grabbing the back of his hair for leverage.  Barely millimetres away, Negan nuzzles eagerly but shockingly waits for permission.

“Mm, it was nice.” You hum, making him wait just a little longer. “I’ve never come so hard thinking about murdering someone before.”

You watch Negan falter; the smarmy gaze falls just a little but it’s the quick sharp slap on your ass that makes you yelp not anticipating quite that reaction.

This time, he grabs your jaw harder sneering into your face before snapping angrily;

“Naughty girl.”

 _Oh my._   Disastrously the buttery response elicits an annoying throb between your legs, so much so you whimper without abandon. _Shit._  

“Good girls don’t lie! I know you, little Grimes. I bet you tried to be quiet, can’t have Daddy hearing his golden girl getting off over the big bad Negan!” No words come out, nothing but a pathetic wisp of air.

“I knew it! Oh baby!” Negan laughs hotly in your ear; “Looks like I have a new fucking shower fantasy! You wanna hear it? Let Negan tell you about it babygirl.” You melt at his nickname for you. Something bangs in the next room but the Molotov cocktail of hormones surge, high on confidence you lift on your tiptoes delving into his dark hair to pull him into a short but intense kiss.

“Y/N?!”

“Maybe next time, Daddy’s home.”

 

Fleeing like you’d been burnt you jog over to Judith just as your Father hits the threshold. Michonne dominoes into the back of him, not anticipating the abrupt halt.  Rick’s cobalt orbs link with your own, scanning for any signs of pain or misery.  If you were honest, you would take pain and misery over horny and awkward any day.  Luckily Negan steps in, shooting a discreet glance to you before greeting your Father who tenses angrily.

“ _Riick!_ Speak of the devil!”  

Instead of taking the bait, Rick strides over mirroring your confused expression.  It’s strange – almost as if he wasn’t expecting to see you in your own house.

“Why aren’t you in the infirmary?”  The words seep out through the cracks in his teeth and you watch Negan over Rick’s back, luckily neither Michonne or your father care to notice his stupid snigger.

“Infirmary.”  Negan chews over the word, testing it on his tongue that peeks viciously from between his teeth.  This time, Rick follows your eyes and the icy grasp of panic takes hold. Good god you hope the little slip up hadn’t left you exposed but it seems your Father is too distracted by the chaos around the room, for a second at least.

“She doesn’t look sick to me Ricky boy!” Negan snorts, pushing away from the stove.  You wonder who raised him, raised a man with no respect for another’s personal space! Catching a laugh between your lips, it takes a sharp bite to the inside of your cheek to stop from bursting out into giggles at the way Negan bends back to regard your Father who you’re shocked to see does not move.  Distracted by their useless bickering neither of them notices you slip out and follow Michonne out and onto the porch.

The heat of midday is heavy against your skin, burning gold momentarily blinds you but it takes less than a minute to spot the dark woman bent over the railing.  She looks in pain, something you’ve never seen in the years of knowing her.   Carefully reaching out to touch her you cough lowly;

“Michonne, are you...alright?”

Breathing heavily, she whirls around, it shocks you the tears that mark her perfect skin and automatically she’s enveloped by your arms.  In that moment you know you’ve underestimated Negan’s power, a colossal mistake that hits you harder than you expect, and a sickly cold feeling banishes the traitorous lust that had clouded your opinion.  There have been countless deaths since the Prison, none have shaken Michonne’s astounding ability to compartmentalize.  It’s surprising how Negan’s unscathing ability to strike fear into others takes even the strongest to the ground.  Why isn’t it affecting you this way? You should be angry and mean but instead it’s just nothing. Michonne’s now level voice leads you to look up from your feet trying to keep your emotions from breaking the surface.

“Just a slip. That man just gets to me.”

You just nod, quietly recalling why you had to follow her out in the first place.

“Why should I be in the infirmary?” Playing dumb, you decide to leave out the part about Carol and wait for her to make a choice between the truth.

You knew she would tell the truth, unlike your father Michonne has never been one to sugar coat anything.

“Your Dad and I- your Dad wants to keep you away from Negan.”  Her pointed words probe like an accusatory finger to the brain and you freeze, carefully planning your next move.

“Why?” You know why, it must be the only reason and it doesn’t let you go free – not without the pain of guilt you feel when remembering the events that led to this in the first place.  _Daryl._   It makes you angry, the blood begins to riot, skin paling at the knuckles that tense and release in pulses.  **_He._** _Took. Daryl._

How dare you forget. How dare you lose the memory of the man that cares for you. In return you’d mocked his love by sticking your tongue into the mouth that humiliated the pair of you in the street for all to see.  Away from Negan’s influence it’s crystal clear. 

“Don’t tell me why.” You rush to cut in, “What’s the plan.” 

“There’s a deal. You know that. Just go with your Father, don’t ask questions. Just eat and get out of there as soon as you can. Take Carl too.” She smiles at the last few words, which you return in kind – Carl has a hate for Negan deeper than your Father and even yourself, though you’re not sure it burns as red as before.  Even so, you breathe standing tall before moving in through the house; he took Daryl, you did as he asked as painful as it was to stand willingly at the side-lines, it’s obvious he’s a man of his word and it should mean something; should.

When you return to the Kitchen he’s glaring, a dark frown drawing shadows under his honey eyes. He says something that you fail to hear over your father’s heavy footsteps. It makes Negan retreat to the stove like a scolded housewife, it’s borderline sickening to watch the way he smiles as if setting the table for his own family. 

“Get changed, grab your brother.” Rick mumbles rubbing your cold arm, but it doesn’t get you to move.  You can’t look away from Negan who removes the ridiculous apron and sits defiantly in your Father’s seat like he owns the place. 

“Hey.” Rick rounds on you, blocking Negan from view, it makes you focus on his face and finally obey.

You’re less than a foot from the door and Carl bursts from behind it, wet hair and dirty shirt flowing freely.  You tell him to come down for dinner, but the words seem to wash over him like the roll of a wave and in the distant part of your mind that’s a chronic overthinker, begins to worry he might have heard the charged exchange between Negan and you, but of course, if he _had_ you probably would not be standing here!

“Carl?”

“Yeah, sorry. Dad told you to get changed, didn’t he?”  Carl laughs, snapping back into the body of the brother you know, confused but happy to see him smile you laugh in return;

“Yeah. Typical Dad huh?” You scoff, missing the narrowing of his eyes at the fingertip blotches that bloom in pink on your skin.

 

Feeling much more yourself with a fresh change of clothes you glance down the stairs, listening quietly to the voices that float up.  You figured that missing the all-important dinner wouldn’t win you any good daughter points and you were hungry, supplies weren’t coming in as thick and fast as usual. It wasn’t Negan that was the only factor in your reluctance to join the dinner, what if something exposed your deal? Cringing at that you slowly descend the stairs, imagining your father’s face if he were to be informed of any of your dealings with Negan. It made you want to crawl into yourself but reaching the kitchen quickly forced any anxiety out of your brain.

“Finally Doll! Food’s getting cold, sit.” Negan rises from the chair, unaffected under the steely gaze of Rick, Michonne and Carl who track his movements as he pulls out a chair.  The world slows down when you look up at Negan, deterred by his gentlemanly manners. But you obey, sliding quickly into the chair at the side of him, no doubt a power move on his part; and it seems to be working. Your Father’s eyes could kill a dead man twice over and it takes Michonne’s reassuring squeeze to calm Rick out of picking up the nearest knife and gutting Negan for daring to brush your arm with the back of his hand when pushing in your chair.

“Thank you.” You cough, trying to swallow the appreciative smile.  It’s deathly silent the table visibly awkward but somehow, you feel calm, safe; but you don’t want to dwell on it, especially after seeing his effect on the rest of your family.  Michonne, breaks the silence –

“We’re here to talk deals.”  She’s angry, seething as the sea her coal black eyes cold and cutting.  Negan chuckles, skilfully twirling the rich pasta obviously unaffected by her remark.

“Then talk, lady.”

You stay quiet, but the voice in your head panics wondering why or more importantly what they would have to offer Negan for something in return. It made you angry to know that once again you’d been left out, even Carl who was listening intently, had more knowledge than you!

“We want Daryl back.”  The thick mouthful of pasta slides like razors scratching guilty into your throat.  You don’t hold back the sharp sigh, luckily neither Negan or anyone else in the room takes notice.

“No fucking shit?!” Negan laughs humourlessly, taking the napkin he wipes his mouth and connects with your eyes, his own light up at what he must see there.

“This fucking little town has nothing I could want? Nothing to replace such a precious asset to my Saviours!” You know what he’s trying to do, make it seem as if he’d been successful in breaking Daryl into turning to the Saviours but your trained eyes know better.  Negan’s jaw ticks, a dead give-away along with the slight smirk that he shares with Lucille who rests inanimate on the spare chair opposite.

“That’s bullshit.” 

You felt Carl tense by your side, his hands tense around the seat of the chair as he spits his venom at Negan who takes it all in, leaning both thick forearms on the table fixing Carl with a look that screamed try me and try he did.

“You want our supplies, you want our friend’s dead you want…” He trails off, out of breath. Maybe he obeyed Rick’s silent pleads or your hand on his arm but somehow, that seems too good to be true.

“A vacation home.” The air disappears from the room, realisation dawning.  You’d remembered hearing something from Tara that day, one of the first Rick had practically imprisoned you in the bedroom on collection day.  You were proven completely correct when Negan stands, scratching the wooden floor, the chair flying back.

“Riick! Your woman needs all the _rewards_ for that one!” The double meaning makes you cringe, unable to look anyone in the eye. 

“Michonne..” You begin to plead, beg for her to think of something else. How would this solve anything, having Negan closer than ever would cause waves, not to mention scare the people of Alexandria into doing somethings stupid – it was a death trap waiting to happen.  But it didn’t matter, you knew the deal was done as soon as Negan looked at you.  He smiles, teeth matching the crystal white walls, you’re resentful and sigh deeply slumping back into your chair.

“Vacation home eh?” He laughs, “Once a week, I might even bring a guest if dear ol’ Rick allows a plus one!” He sneers stalking to your Father who straightens, scowling. 

“You, and one more. No one else, I won’t have my town threatened by you.  Now give us what we want Negan.” His raised voice throws you back into childhood, how your Father would snap down the phone at mortgage advisers and cold callers.

“My men will patrol the perimeter, taking out all the dead for you sorry fuckers while I screw each of my wives into your mattresses!”  You stand at that, flinging the chair back so hard everyone turns.

“Now get out. Get _out!”_

It’s strange, how proud your Father looks though Carl and Michonne do not share his expression Rick’s small smile is enough fuel to spur you on.

“Remember what I told you about that sassy fucking mouth!!” It’s like ice water down your back, knowing Negan still has the upper hand over you, it’s enough to make you stagger back at his angry cry.  Suddenly all too aware of the double meaning, as well as his barbed wired accomplice swinging carelessly over his shoulder you watch as he passes, unmoving whilst he leans close;

“Remember babydoll, hmm?” His whisper turns angry taken off guard by Rick who’s arm wriggles out of Michonne’s hand and slams against Negan;

“Get out!!” Rick roars, unsettling even Carl who visibly shuffles closer to you.

“Phew! If this is what it’s like at every Grime’s family dinner count me in for next fucking week! Enjoy the dishes you sorry shits!” Negan cackles, winking naughtily before leaving with a curt slam of the door.

As soon as Negan leaves, so does your will to fight as well as your dignity. It hurts, you let him manipulate your stupid lust for something, a rough touch if nothing else and it makes you want to scream.  There isn’t time for yelling, the kitchen is a mess; no one breathes a word as they go on tidying up, it’s as if you all hold a baited breath even when the threat is gone not letting go until there is nothing more to do. 

Dusk had fallen by the time the town was back in order, the Saviours like a bull in a china shop breaking more possessions and people with each visit.  Rick tries gently for an explanation, pulling your stoic body into his comforting arms while asking again what Negan meant.  How could you tell him how much of a traitor his daughter is, how badly she fucked up by letting the enemy worm his way into her body and brain.  You can’t explain but try to placate him without unnecessary detail.

“He said he’d kill him, Daryl if I talked back.” You chance a look at your Father who, isn’t angry but holds you tight until your body goes limp fed up of fighting every bad feeling.

He lets you cry out the guilt, shame and anger that Negan created, but can do nothing for the self-hatred and loathing that remains.  Even after all the effort Negan still won.

“Hey. Hey! Y/N, wake up!”

“Carl, stop.” Your body screams, all limbs aching exacerbated by the lumpy couch.  Carl though, doesn’t give up.

“Get up.” You smile slightly, he always used that tone back before, he must want something.

“What’s up?” You smile, rubbing the palms of your hands against your eyes until stars form.

But before Carl can speak, a loud bang erupts from behind the front door and Rick runs heavily from upstairs gun holstered this time.  For the love of god you hope it’s not any of the Saviours returning for more blood.  An unfamiliar feeling makes you shift in your seat, but you stay sitting tears welling up unsolicited when your Father flings himself around the threshold.  

He stares wide eyed; his red eyes and weathered face are more hopeful than you have seen for a long time. “I-t’s for you.”  You flash the tallest figure a confused look before the penny drops;

“What has he done...?”


	7. Comeback Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face returns, but so does the guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first person, non italics are present day Daryl POV. Italics are "you" hours earlier.

Daryl hisses at the burn of ice against his beaten skin, flinching away and banging his elbow on the edge of the kitchen counter.  She tuts, rolling her eyes, handing him the tea towel-wrapped cold compress to do it himself.  He always makes the worst patient, she reminds herself – every time.

_Shaking legs lift you from the couch.  It can’t be real?  Your Father loses all composure, crumbling at the sight of Daryl who lingers in your doorway.  The sun beams in from behind, making him look like a vision from a torturous dream, it takes Carl’s reassuring touch to pull you back and you find yourself having to grasp hold of his lean arm to stay standing. “Daryl” The word is a whisper on your lips and you step forward, huffing out a laugh of utter disbelief._

_“Dad” Carl chuckles tugging at your father’s arm.  He’s barely an inch away when you swoop in, wrapping around Daryl instantly, touching his arms neck and face as if waiting for him to suddenly disappear. But he doesn’t, he barely even moves._

_“Oh my god, it’s you..” You sigh, finally allowing yourself to cry.  You swallow hard, looking up at him. It’s there you find his blue eyes with unshed tears. He sighs and pulls you hard against his body, his voice is broken though gentle and tells you he’s okay, he’s real._

_A small noise of surprise escapes you, but it’s muffled by his lips, swollen and bruised but still soft against yours. You can smell the sweat and dirt but he’s so real, kissing you with unrivalled determination you can’t help but whine in surprise._

_“Daryl—” You pull back. Rick’s awkward stance in your peripheral a gentle reminder that you aren’t alone.  You pause in moving, not wanting to withdraw from the comfort of his arms just yet._

_Rick moves forward, catching something in Daryl’s eyes that looks like the beginnings of a storm. Looking from one man to the other you take a small step back, finally seeing the extensive damage to the skin on show._

Daryl can’t help but stare, she’s standing filling a kettle to make tea and it’s strange. But he doesn’t care, in fact he’s trying to work out what’s different. Even over the unfamiliar noise of the kettle boiling he hears her apologise again.  “If I hadn’t have mouthed off…this would never have happened!” With a gesture to his black eye and bruised skin. He looks at her face and the sinking feeling returns, the thought that there’s more to her regret is one he can’t seem to escape.

 _“I’m going to kill him!” Rick suddenly screams, slamming a heavy fist into the door frame._   _You flinch, side stepping into Carl – not that he notices, in fact your Brother is too busy staring off into the street._

_“Carl?” You nudge him in the side, he slowly turns toward you, head at an angle just like your Father – who captures your attention, struggling with an unsteady Daryl who slumps into the couch._

_“Daryl!” You gasp, instantly at his side. This close, his bruises are darker, meaner than you first thought.  It makes the swirling storm of anger riot and you curse, reeling back.  Rick tries to calm you as you yell;_

_“This is my fault.” You push your hair off your face, take a deep breath and begin to cry “I’m so sorry..”_

_The three men stare on and you can’t bare it, their faces – hurt, confused, tired can’t feel the stab of guilt and you’re glad. But for them, or you, you don’t know.  Part of you doesn’t regret it, kissing him because at the time it was what you wanted most, but now you crave nothing else than to rip Negan to shreds._

_“No.” Daryl breathes, blue eyes holding none of the guilt you feel, but something else entirely, “it wasn’t your fault girl.”_

_Lightening cracks in his eyes and he turns to your Father with a thunderous expression “Together, we’ll be their worst damn nightmare!”_

He watches her, she’s still and silent, staring around the kitchen and he finds himself wondering why, she shares a slither of a smile with the floor by the fridge before it disappears completely. He’s scared, not knowing why.

“Here, let me,” It’s not a shout, in fact it’s gentle.  Her voice comes from his left, it’s a little shaky and as she steps forward Daryl realises that he’s been fumbling with the towel.

A small noise of protest escapes him, but it’s too late; She’s already in front of him, so close he can feel her breath against his face as she takes the towel and makes a mental note not to flinch or move when she pushes the ice down with a steady hand. He can smell the light floral scent lingering, and underneath hints of sweat and earth that feels safe. Home.   It hits like a freight train, the shame. 

She didn’t want to do it and if he’s honest with himself he doesn’t feel comfortable with Negan in this house, in that cell instead of deep in the ground but it was the way she said it; “Dad. Think about this, please.”  That stopped him in his tracks, her delicate features screwing up made him look from Rick and back, but she seemed to push harder, until an argument broke out. 

Soft fingertips that graze his neck bring Daryl back when she retreats with the ice pack, to return and fold the collar of his shirt back down.  He can’t stop the shiver at her breath surprisingly warm against his throat.  He knows Rick nor Carl will come back now, they hurried off together away from her sharp barbs and questions on morality, though Daryl knows deep down Rick honoured their privacy.

And then, her palms press over his chest.

Goosebumps erupt in waves across his skin, every nerve alight and for a moment – one brief never-ending moment the blood and bone and muscle of him contracts in a surge of pure, want.

“Shh..” He goes to speak, but she shushes him, letting her watery eyes sink shut.

The kiss is gentle. A flutter of warm, soft lips against his rough chapped ones, but the contrast makes him swallow hard, gulping down worries and doubts to take the plunge.

They're trapped against the island and table, the chair is digging into his leg but he can't feel much of anything but her; she's warm, so warm under his cool palms.  His hands drift down, running over the buttery material of her dress; the one that _he_ tainted when sending her to the ground.  It makes him mad, forcing his lips to claim hers in a feisty wet kiss that continues in kitten licks down her jaw. 

She stands, chest heaving, her breath coming out in laboured pants of shock and want.  After a minute she must become aware that she's trembling.  Her arms come up and wrap around Daryl's frame, he's strong that she knows, but this time his muscle and those arms are all for her.

 The kisses that had been, so innocent and almost childlike now spiralled.  It's all teeth and tongue, furious and desperate and hard.  Her dextrous fingers have an almost desperate hold in Daryl’s hair, but he couldn't give any less of a damn, fisting his own in the back of her hair pressing every inch of himself impossibly close.  He feels her gasp, feeling _everything_ and fuck does it make him so much harder, watching her pant and squirm against the counter.  Then it's her, sucking his tongue into her mouth and Daryl can't help but moan, fingers digging harder. 

“Daryl.” She breaks the silence, gasping for air. “You’re hurt, stop.”

He doesn’t expect it; her step backward feels like miles and she quickly busies herself fixing her dress.

“Sleep in the bed, you deserve it.  I’ll be fine on the sofa?”  It has the barest echo of a question, but he knows not to refuse. 

Daryl lets her help him out and back in some clean sweats and one of Rick’s shirts, he didn’t have much on the road and it shows.  She’s smiling when he turns, bruised and beaten but clean and finally comfortable.  Daryl finds himself sharing her grin, happy to be warm and sleeping on something that isn’t icy concrete. 

“Go to bed, I’ll be here if you need me.” She coos, nuzzling her face into his chest.  The intimacy of it surprises Daryl who doesn’t hesitate to cuddle her tight. 

“I’ll always need you..”

She closes her eyes, gives him one last squeeze and lets him leave.

 

 It’s been a week since Daryl returned and adjusting has been hard; you’ve barely seen each other, in passing he offers a whisper of a kiss that you barely return before heading to the basement.   Another sore subject between you and your father who spends most of his time between here and the holiday home, going over absurd plans and knocking down any alternatives.

“What’s wrong with you?”

As far as you’re concerned, everything’s peachy. But Carl, is perceptive.  How did you even think for a second you could get away with it?

“I’m fine.” _Once again with feeling?_   You almost feel the roll of your brother’s eyes even before turning to look and just as predicted he’s there, leaning both slender arms across the island as you eat. His trademark, I call bullshit look plastered over the somewhat marred features of his face.

What is there to say? What do you say?  _Oh hey, my boyfriend is beaten black and blue, but Negan kissed me, and I haven’t been able to think of anything else!_ _What do you think of that?_ Perhaps not.

“It’s just, I don’t want any collateral Carl..” You sigh, grinning broadly at Judith, feeding her a breakfast of oatmeal. “Judith, you, _Dad_ could get hurt.”

You look up at Carl, he’s frowning as if trying to work out a complex puzzle.  He regards you slightly, passing the empty red cup toward Judith’s outstretched palm.

“Isn’t that a damn good reason to put that son of a bitch in that cell?” To your surprise, he’s calm and collected, though his sharp tongue mirrors your Father’s who barely a week ago threw the same question.

“Not if someone we care about dies to do it.” 

Echoing your words from days ago have the same reaction from Carl, he returns to his own food which by the grimace on his face had already turned cold. 

“Omph!” Your words are muffled by a throw pillow that hurtles your way

“Stop laughing!” Carl’s giggles fade away down the hallway and you shoot a toothy grin down at Judith.

 

 It’s been a while since everything felt this normal, you spend most of the day with Judith and Tara, who’d become a recent visitor over the last few days.  The midday sun streams into the front room, without proper air con it’s roasting and it doesn’t take long for all three of you to change into bathing suits and make the most of the weather outside.

You manage to convince Carl to help blow up the ratty child’s pool that you found in the back of the Anderson’s cupboard one day.  You still shiver with the memory of Jessie, that image will be burned in the back of your brain forever, but it’s torn from your mind at the ice-cold jet of water spearing your burning skin.

“Damn it!”  Busted.

“Gotcha! Judith, we won!” Tara yelps, launching around the fallen shed you were sure had been an epic place for hide and seek! Just your luck!

It’s strange, the smile on both their faces running happily around the quaint garden like the world hadn’t ended outside the walls.  But it’s okay, you’re safe, safer now that Negan was about to be dealt with.  But why does the sinking feeling have you believing otherwise?

“Dude! You’re crap at this!”  Another cold spurt of water hits you right between the breasts and you scream out loud.   Unbeknownst to you the sound terrifies the three men who fiddle with the intricate lock of the cold metal bars, finally finishing the cell.

“What’s wron—” The chorus of laughter begins, even Daryl – a blush peppering his tan cheeks just slightly at your scantily clad body.

“She lost, lost hard!” Tara crows, spinning Judith until she squeals in protest. 

It’s so normal. So right.

Until the hollow cacophony of wood on metal cascades around Alexandria. 

He’s here.

 

 Before you know what’s happening, you’ve followed your father into the street, helping gather the panicked Alexandrian’s into the Church.  The meeting you had hoped would wait a few days was unavoidable now, but it had to happen sometime, right?

“Daryl!” Rick whispers something to Daryl who moves in a split second, wrapping his meaty hand around your bicep, urging you toward the house.

He’s doing it again, side-lining you without hesitation! You’d proved yourself time and time again, taking down a Saviour without blinking and even punched Negan in the god damn face and this is how you’re treated!

Daryl doesn’t expect your sharp recoil, you practically tear yourself from his arms – water from your soaked hair turns his dark shirt darker when he fights with your wriggling body.

“No! Daryl, let me go! He’s not doing this!” You growl, this time rounding to face Daryl who stands like a colt, skittish and fiery.  There’s no mistaking his intention, he wants to pull, throw you kicking and screaming over his shoulder to safety, but that illusion was broken as soon as the rusted gates of Alexandria squeal open. 

“Rick! _Riick!_ ” You don’t flinch, ordinarily Negan’s presence would have you drawn toward the sound of his rich tones but the look in Daryl’s eyes leaves no wiggle room.

He must move.  Hearing the unsteady tread of your father trailing after Negan points to only one thing.

“Rick the prick’s hand-me-down hotel!” His buttery tones only get closer, the hairs on your damp arms rise and you shiver involuntarily. “I hope I don’t have to leave a bad review!” 

“Now, what do we have here! This looks…tense?”

It’s nerves, you know that – the way the unsettling feeling scratches at the insides of your stomach.  It’s the only reason why you feel the unbearable urge to contradict yourself and head inside as quickly as you can.  But you can’t move.  Negan’s shadow is dark in your peripheral, the way he slinks and leans in between Daryl and you who don’t look away.

“Honeymoon phase over already? WELL, I called it! Didn’t I?” Negan booms, cackling deeply to someone off to the side of him.  You can feel their eyes.

“Stay away from them!” _Not now Carl._

Negan laughs again, disregarding Carl and your father completely to come between yourself and Daryl. 

Cool breeze, gentle but enough to shock your burning body back and instead of Daryl’s stone-cold expression you’re met by Negan standing tall and towering over your considerably smaller frame. 

“Look, at you!”  His amber eyes ride your curves, latching onto the skin exposed by your red bikini top and tiny shorts.  Rick is holding Daryl tight, through the heartbeat in your ears you make out the words;

“Get away from her! Don’t you touch her!”

But they fade away, so do the people surrounding them until it’s only the two of you and suddenly, that’s all that matters.

“Hey there little Grimes, aren’t you a sight.” He purrs, stalking around your body in a tight circle. His warm breath sends shivers down your spine. Your own eyes follow him, luckily your father nor Daryl see the path his hand takes over the exposed skin of your lower back.  You knew you needed to be careful, careful not to let your family see the heat rising to the surface of your skin, you feel guilty enough without your body betraying rational thought. 

“Negan.” You greet him but move hurriedly to Daryl who doesn’t expect the way you take his hand, gripping it tightly.  _You can’t be attracted to Negan. It’s nothing but a mistake._   Your closeness with Daryl seemed to only drive Negan’s cruelty and, in an instant, he turns into the man that shoved you down to your knees in the dirt.

“Mm, I hope your boytoy learned some things, on his little fucking vacation Doll.” Negan smirks, licking seductively at his bottom lip. You wish it didn’t make your stomach clench. “Obviously fucking not!” He booms, and you cringe, knowing what’s coming; “it’s a shame, every lady should get a good fuck, you’re looking as uptight as ever Princess!”  You wish the ground would swallow you whole, your face matches the colour of your bikini and Daryl breathes like a race horse in your ear, crunching the delicate bones of your hand.  _Fuck Negan._

Rick breathes hard, grasping the wood of Lucille Negan had thrusted in your father’s direction upon entry. “Dad.” You whisper, just low enough for him to hear – you wonder what would have happened, one more step and he would have been able to end it all, with Negan’s own weapon.

Negan though, didn’t miss a trick.  The three of you share a tight-lipped scowl;

“Uh ah Ricky boy! I was just fuckin’ kidding! Calm down Prick!” Negan raises both arms, leather jacket shining in the sun and demands to be shown inside;

“Now, you and your daughter are going to show me inside!” Negan sneers blatantly at Daryl, not bothering to hide his distaste for the one that got away;

“How about showing some southern hospitality! Make us some sandwiches Redneck!”

Daryl growls low, pushing you behind his back and out of reach of Negan who extends a polite hand

“Screw you.”  Your stomach drops, knowing this will only end in blood you interrupt your Father, shaking your head when he goes to defuse the situation.  You won’t be side-lined again and unbeknownst to Rick and Daryl, you know Negan would never refuse a chance for the two of you to be alone.

“Did you bring anything?”

“Doll, what are you fucking on about?” Negan laughs, flicking between Rick and Daryl who both are dumbfounded;

“Did. You bring anything, anyone? I’m not a tour guide.”

That smile. The broad, white grin that pinned you to the kitchen counter weeks before forces the blood to your feet and as much as you try to deny it, the feeling remains.

“That’s _it!_ ” The way he growls, elongating the word has you shaking in the evening sun; “Your daughter is my fucking favourite!” 

Your father tries to plead, but you dismiss him. 

“Y/N. First you run off at night, now this?! What are you chasing. What’s wrong?” 

It stops you in your tracks, Negan disappears into the house unaware of your Father’s touch on your arm swinging you round to face him.  It makes you angry.  At the beginning he fought to keep the Saviours away from you, benching you over and over again until you snapped but now as he stares you down in the middle of the street you realise – it’s you who’s he is trying to keep away from them.

“Dad. I love you, I promise I’m fine.  We need to keep him sweet, he already kidnapped Daryl because I defied him.  I can’t make that mistake again.”

That’s what you tell yourself. That’s what your Father believes.  But the sick anticipation of what lies inside that house excites you more than any night run ever did. 

You can’t run from it. Run from him.

 


End file.
